My Dirty Little Secret
by Kalexico
Summary: I remember falling in love with Santana Lopez. - Quinntana FEMSLASH. Partly future fic. UPDATE 09/21
1. Falling in love with Santana Lopez

**A/N: This is my first foray into Quinntana. I've "met" the ship through fanfic and love it more every day. Let me know if you want more of this or if this should remain a one shot. Reviews are appreciated, as is constructive criticism. **

**English is not my native language, so I apologise for spelling mistakes, grammatical errors and cultural things I didn't get right. I "research" through the internet as much as possible, but something will always slip through.**

**If you have cool Quinntana ideas, let me know!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. If I did, Brittana would be on screen 90% of the time in World 1 and Quinntana would be on screen 90% of the time in World 2. I really can't chose which pairing I like best. The show would also be not so primetime-friendly, if you catch my drift. **

**Read & review! I send cookies.**

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><p>I remember falling in love with Santana Lopez.<p>

Santana and I were friends long before either of us knew that life isn't as simple as it seems. People always expected us together; they knew that when they got Santana, they inevitably had to take Quinn as well.

When we were 13, we were both into poetry – well, that's what we called it. In hindsight, it was nothing more than cheesiness. We then decided that our souls had to be twins, that we had to be connected emotionally somehow, that what we had transcended friendship. Well, to be completely honest, I told her that it felt like that for me and she agreed. But then Santana never has been one to talk her feelings through.

I know her like nobody does, I get to see the side of her that even Brittany isn't aware of. I love her regardless – in fact, it only contributed to my love for her. I read once that Plato said that before we're born, we exist of two parts: a male part and a female part. We get torn at birth and subsequently spend our entire lives searching for our other half and when we have, we feel whole. Santana and I feel like that. Of course the whole male/female thing doesn't work out for us, but it's the thought behind it.

I'm digressing. It happens to me all the time when I'm talking about Santana, or thinking about her, which must be nearly every second of the day.

So, as I've just established, we've always been best friends. Now I know that when I tell her that I love her, I don't mean it in the way that she thinks I do. I remember falling in love with her.

It was on a Tuesday afternoon in English class. Ms Stephens was talking to us about some poet she greatly admired and had a hard time containing herself. Ms Stephens pretty much admires every published poet. I suspect she wants to be on herself. Anyway, the class was boring. I wasn't sitting next to Santana because our teacher wouldn't let us. She was boring, but not stupid. As I said, our friendship is legendary and she'd heard from her colleagues not to place us next to each other because we would most likely keep busy with anything but the lesson.

Santana was sitting in the row to my left, diagonally before me. She let her hair flow to the front from her left side, granting me a full view of her profile. She was wearing a tight white V-neck that stood in contrast with her skin and a pair of jeans that hugged her hips just as tightly. Sue had thrown her off the Cheerios temporarily because she had been caught eating a cheeseburger. Secretly, I enjoyed this. Of course I felt bad for Santana – I know what being part of the cheerleading squad means to her – but I like seeing her in her casual clothes. She looks that much hotter, and we're speaking Santana Lopez here.

As if she felt my stare, she turned her head slightly and smirked. My heart stopped a beat. If I could, I would have grabbed a camera and eternalised that moment. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, one of them pointing upwards. Her smoldering dark eyes beholding a mix of brutality, a no-nonsense attitude, boredom and understanding that we were both on the same page. Her flawless skin, so smooth that it was physically hard for me not to reach out to her and touch it. Her sharp-but-not-too sharp nose. Her lips – oh God, her lips. They were heaven on Earth, and I knew it because I had once pretended to drown just after her parents had forced her to take a First Aid course. Just to have her do mouth-on-mouth. Her lips have been a source of fascination for me since forever and I just wanted to feel them on mine once. Now, one corner of her mouth was also pointing upwards, revealing her white teeth slightly. My eyes traveled the length of her neck, her collarbones, the swell of her breasts, her stomach (and the hint of abs I knew were there), her hips, her legs. She winked at me, rolled her eyes at Ms Stephen's rant and turned to the piece of paper in front of her again. I rested my head on my desk, trying my best to suppress a groan.

I looked up again and saw her scribbling something. I raised an eyebrow – Santana never took notes. She always had a way of getting the perfect notes when she needed to study. I watched her pen and a small smile graced my lips.

I had bought that pen for her five years ago. Nobody knows this, but Santana likes to write. She has developed her very own style over the years, it's not poetry but not entirely prose either. It's something in between, but immediately recognisable as hers. Nobody knows she writes, so of course nobody gets to read it. She's so scared of losing her status as HBIC. Sometimes I wish that people would get to see the real Santana, the Santana that I know.

Anyway, I bought that pen for her in New York when I was 12. My mom has relatives there, pretty influential people and my dad had thought it high time to visit them. It was in the summer from 6th to 7th grade. I didn't want to go, I wanted to stay home and hang out with Santana. But my parents were still trying to uphold the image of a perfect family, so it was manditory I tagged along. The sad thing was that it had always been a dream of Santana's to see New York and now I was going without her. I'd asked my parents if she could join us, but they don't like her very much. They don't like her non-apologetic attitude, her refusal to play by the rules. I love that about her.

So there I was, in New York. My parents were getting as much out of the trip as they could and were constantly networking and socialising. I was left with a sitter who would drag me along to museums, because she was an art major. It was boring as hell. I decided to take a souvenir for Santana with me. We were rarely apart for such long periods of time and I missed her terribly. I had managed to convince my sitter to take a break from the museums and visit the bookshops around the city. To be completely honest – I threatened that I'd tell my parents that she dumped me in trashy diners or cafés and spent her time with boyfriends if she didn't take me.

We came across this place where you could design your own pen and they'd make it for you. I was of course a very cute child and the owner was immediately taken with me. She ensured that I'd get my pen as soon as possible. I designed a red, white and black pen with Santana's name on it in a badass handwriting and some ink splats. Around it was also a small band that was a film strip with in it a picture of her and me in black and white – tiny, of course, but there. I also made sure it said 'New York'. Santana was so happy when I gave that pen to her. She barely shows any emotion, but then she jumped on me and I fell back on the bed. She enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug, peppering my face with kisses. To this day I swear I saw a tear trickling down her cheek. And she still uses it. She told me that even if it would break, she'd always keep it.

I was distracted by a flash that only lasted a second. It was the sunlight touching Santana's necklace, a small heart attached to it. Inside was a tiny picture of me. I automatically felt for my own, of course with a tiny picture of her inside it. It had taken me a lot of hard work to convince her to do something as sappy as wear necklaces with each other's picture in it. In the end, it had been the famous Fabray pout combined with the just as famous Fabray puppy eyes that had done the trick.

A sigh escaped my lips as I noticed her shoes. We'd bought those the first time we were allowed to go to the mall together by ourselves. They still fit her and didn't even look that old because she rarely wore them. That's just because she has so many pairs of shoes. As un-girlish as she can be in her mannerisms and concerning emotions, she is very much a woman when it comes to shoes. I think she could provide for the entire population of Ohio.

I was awoken from my thoughts by the soft thud of a folded piece of paper on my desk. I didn't have to look up to know who it came from. I slipped it to my lap and opened it. I looked up and noticed that Ms Stephens was writing something on the blackboard. I read the note.

_Having a 'Bitch, be glad I walked in'-moment. She needs to get laid. Maybe we could ask Mr Schue, or Berry to do the job. They could both use it._

_x Tana_

My heart jumped up in delight. I was the only one allowed to give her a nickname and she rarely referred to herself using it. I recalled the moment that the first line of the note referred to. Two years ago, she had walked into Mr Walters' class, noticed that he was replaced by a substitute and turned on her heels. When the substitute had called out to her, telling her that she didn't think she could just walk out of there like that, "Bitch, be glad I walked in" had been Santana's still famous response. We used this to refer to moments that they really wished they hadn't entered a classroom, or another place. I took my pen and wrote:

_The mental images are beyond disturbing. Let's skip government later. I could give a fuck about it and Mr Jamison isn't even hot._

_x Q_

I waited until Ms Stephens turned her back again, stretched to tap Santana on the shoulder and handed her the note. She discreetly read it, looked at me and nodded.

The thought of spending time with her alone did a lot of things to my body. I felt like my insides had dropped, I felt happy, excited, like I was floating. When class ended, she gave me her sexy smirk and the ground vanished from beneath my feet. It was then that I knew.

I, Lucy Quinn Fabray, am and will always be completely and irrevocably in love with Santana Rosa Maria Lopez.


	2. After All This Time

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, the favourites and the story alerts! It really keeps me going. I've also decided on a bit of a new "twist" to this one. Any special Quinntana requests? Let me know!**

**Glee and its characters are sadly not mine. Quinn and Santana would SO be getting it on.**

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><p>I look out of the floor to ceiling windows, a small smile tugging at my lips. I can't believe I'm looking at New York. Santana and I have been here for a while now, but sometimes it still hits me like a ton of bricks – we live in New York.<p>

I sigh inaudibly and stroke my protruding stomach absentmindedly. In the distance, I hear someone slamming a door and think to myself that it's probably one of the other tenants. They've been fighting for as long as we've known them and we've both wondered out loud how much longer they were going to drag this out.

I grab my laptop and open it, quickly finding the document I want and re-reading it. I edit some typos and add a description here and there. Once I've done that, I read it again and bite my lower lip softly. Sometimes, it seems like I fell in love with her yesterday. Sometimes, it's hard to believe that we're making it. We actually are making it. Quinn and Santana Fabray-Lopez. There had been quite the power struggle about that, Santana wanting my name to come first. Using her all too familiair logic, she stated that following the alphabet is the natural thing to do. I finally caved in when she remarked with a smirk that her name being the last one would have the so-called recency effect on people – Lopez standing out because it's the last they've heard. When she was drunk, she confessed that she wanted my name to come first because she felt it was right for our future kids that their first last name would be their biological mother's.

That wasn't the first time she said out loud that children were a part of the picture she had of her future with me. In college, we maintained a long-distance relationship. Luckily, we were both on the East Coast. When she rejected a guy, cursed the hell out of him and told him that guys like him were the reason that she was gay, he punched her and she had to see a doctor. That is when we found out that she is infertile. She went through a rough patch then, but I was right there with her. We spent a lot of that summer talking and crying. And after a few months, she kissed me and said: "Good thing I'm gay. At least I have my woman to carry my babies."

I still am surprised that she wants children. She always struck me as the independent kind, the kind that is too impatient for children. She's also spent so much time being angry and a straight-up bitch. I thought she found them annoying, whiny, snotty, self-centered. When I confronted her with this view, she shrugged and said: "That's true, but Quinn... these are our babies we're talking about. They're going to kick major ass and they'll be the smartest kids in their class and shit. They'll be the coolest kids on the block with the hottest moms."

I hear the sound of dangling keys and Spanish swearing. I roll my eyes, unable to suppress a smile at my wife's antics. I am just about to get up and open the door for her when it opens. She drops her bag on the floor and walks over to me. I lick my lips at the mere sight. She just looks so good in those business suits, her jet-black hair pulled from her face with one simple pin. It's mandatory for her job in a PR consultancy firm. She grins at me and asks: "How is my favourite pregnant lawyer?"

Before I get a chance to answer, she leans down to kiss me with those full lips of her. After all these years, I still marvel at the feel of them. She rubs my stomach softly and deepens the kiss. "I am so in love with you, Quinn Fabray-Lopez," she whispers against my lips.

She puts her leg between mine and leans on it, now kissing my neck. She leans on one hand and feels me up with the other. She loves how extra sensitive my breasts are. I love it too. We have lots of things in common. Her thumb grazes my nipple and I tilt my head back. Her hand trails from my breast over my stomach to my inner thighs. She softly strokes me, nipping at my lips again.

"I'm the pregnant one. I should be the one crazy for sex all the time."

"It's called sympathy pregnancy, Q."

"Nah. You're just the same old horn dog you were when we were teenagers."

"You're my wife. Can you honestly blame me? Oh – before I forget, I brought you something."

She stands up and I instantly miss the contact of our bodies. She gets a thermos from my bag and walks over to me. She smiles as she explains. "I stopped by Tom's and had them fill this with coffee for you."

I clap my hands excitedly. One of the downsides of being pregnant is obviously the lack of caffeine. As soon as we decided to try to get pregnant, I looked up if I still could have coffee, worried because of the myth that pregnant women can't have alcohol, caffeine, crustaceans, etc. I was so happy when I read that I can drink coffee, as long as I don't overdo it. It's still a huge setback from my daily cup, though. I love it when Santana surprises me like this.

She gets cups, spoons, cream and sugar. She quickly changes into something more comfortable and then joins me on the couch, my legs resting in her lap. She gives me a foot massage. We talk about our days and I tell her I've been writing a little. Interest piqued, she demands to read it.

I hand her the laptop and look at her face as she reads it. "Oh God, Ms Stephens! She was SUCH a prude! I heard Mr Schue did get laid with her... well, it was a high school rumour." I see a lot of smiling, some tears she immediately sniffles away and also surprise. Once she's finished, she puts my laptop back on the table and grabs my feet. She gazes into my eyes intensely, then kisses my toes.

"I love you," she says after a while. "Lucy Quinn Fabray-Lopez, I motherfucking love you."

"I know," I smile. "And so do the boys."

She leans down until her mouth reaches my belly. Stage-whispering, she says: "You guys are pretty damn lucky. Your mommy is very pretty, very smart and she always wins her cases. She's also passionate and loving and caring and crazy and such a good person. Did I mention she's got the most amazing smile in the world? I could pretty much shag her all day!"

At first, I smile at her antics, then I slap her lightly on the head. "Santana!"

"What?" she looks up and me and shrugs. "Honesty is a very important value to instill on them. The sooner they're confronted with it, the better."

This is why she's so good at her job, she can always explain everything and make even the worst actions sound good.

"So," she says. "Do you remember what we did that day that you fell in love with me? While skipping government?"

TBC?


	3. Such a Tease

**A/N: So, I've clearly decided that this was going to be a multiple chapter story. I'm going to alternate between Quinntana beginning and Quinntana Future. The odd chapters are Quinntana beginning, the even chapters are Quinntana Future. **

**I'm totally into HeYa rpf, so anyone that can point me in the good direction is welcomed with open arms :) and of course the same goes for Dianna/Naya rpf. **

**Lately, I've been so much into Quinntana that I think it's going to be weird when the season 3 begins and Quinn will be, like, straight O.o I do hope she remains single. She doesn't _need_ a boyfriend. I also hope Tina gets a decent storyline for once. There should also totally be a Latin dance scene - imagine Santana and Brittany (or Santana and Quinn, but I doubt they'll go there) doing some kind of hot Latin dance... I also hope they don't go Faberry on the show. But well, that's just me.**

**Thanks for the review, story alerts and the favouriting! And a special shout out to GleekMeUp, my generous (yes, pun intended) wife.**

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><p>"So tell me, Ms Lopez," Annie Warbucks, the school nurse said, a sigh audible in her voice. "What exactly is the matter?"<p>

Santana swallowed and whiped non-existent sweat from her front. "I... oh fuck... I really don't feel very well, ms Warbucks. I have a terrible migraine, I feel nauseous, my head is throbbing and I swear to God that my uterus is trying to fucking kill me."

Annie Warbucks didn't do so much as flinch at Santana's foul mouth. She knew it was a habit impossible to break. She knew Santana because she sometimes volunteered to help out, but somehow, something always happened afterwards. She couldn't deny the young Latina's offer, though, because prinicipal Figgins genuinely believed that this was the girl's way of making up for her undesirable behaviour.

"I take it this is that time of month again?" The school nurse couldn't conceil the disbelief in her voice, but she probably wondered what the point was in arguing.

"Yes, ms Warbucks," Santana nodded defeatedly. "I get it this bad a few times a year. It's impossible to be here right now, I've been suffering all day."

This was where I came in. "It's true. She's been a mess, dragging herself through the hours, but she really can't take it anymore. Besides, our next class is government and at the moment, we're working on a project in pairs in class. We're paired up, so we can easily catch up later."

Annie Warbucks nodded. "You can still attend class, though, Quinn. Maybe consult with your teacher or do some work by yourself?"

"But ms Warbucks, my parents aren't home this week and there's no – oh fuck that hurts, could you turn off that bright light? - there's no way I can drive myself home in this condition."

"Alright, alright," ms Warbucks gave up and got out her pad and a pen. "Quinn, you can take ms Lopez home and look after her. Who are these for?" she asked, alluding to the slips she was about to write.

"Mr Larkin is our Government teacher. We're also in Glee club, so we'll need one for Mr Schuester," I said, using my softest, most vulnerable voice.

Ms Warbucks wrote the names down and then looked up. "Get better soon, ms Lopez," she said, dismissing us.

Santana got up, pretending to have trouble with that. I rushed over to her and put my arm around her back so that she could lean on me. She shut her eyes tightly against the bright hallways lights and we slowly shuffled to the door. We kept it up all the way to the parking lot – you never know who's watching, until we reached Santana's car. She always preferred we drove hers. She loved the Land Rover her father had gotten her under the pretence of it being a gift for her getting her permit, but in reality it was his way of apologising for being the absent kind of dad.

I got in the driver's seat, my hands resting on the steering wheel. I was the only one other than Santana who was allowed to drive her baby. I turned to look at her and had to suppress a sigh. Now that I'd admitted to myself that I was in love with her, the world seemed to be a different place. Santana seemed to be different, too. She seemed to glow, like she was even't human, like she didn't belong in a town like Lima, Ohio. I took a sharp breath and concentrated on driving.

"Did you have anything in mind?" I asked, steering the car off the student's parking lot. Our houses were both in the same direction.

"It's so hot out, I thought it'd be nice to hang out in the pool," Santana answered. "The one truth I told earlier was the fact that my parents aren't home."

I burst out laughing. "I still can't believe she fell for it! You really should consider becoming an actress."

Santana shrugged. "I don't think she bought the story, she just didn't feel like making a scene because she knew that in the end, Figgings would root for me. Daddy's been very generous at the beginning of the school year."

I shook my head in disbelief, but decided not to be bothered by it. We arrived at her house and Santana handed me a bikini before retreating into the bathroom to change. I held the swimsuit up and frowned. This must have been the skimpiest piece she had.

Santana came out of the bathroom, a tube of tanning lotion in hand. With her Puerto Rican roots, she didn't really need it, but she loved the feeling of rubbing it on her skin. We grabbed some towels and went outside. After draping her towel over a lounge chair, she turned to me.

"Lie down. If I don't rubs you in, you gonna be all kinds of burnt later."

I swallowed, trying very, _very_ hard not to read too much into that comment. Instead, I laid down on the lounge chair. As always, Santana straddled me and poured some lotion on the palm of her hand, starting to rub it in at my shoulders. I bit my lip – there was just something so erotic about it. We had done it plenty of times, before either one of us got a body to die for, but with the recent realisations that had come to me in mind... It only got worse. The next step was my stomach, her fingers nimbly dancing around it before rubbing it with the palms of her hands. She moved up dangerously close to my breasts and I swear to this day she must've seen through the (skimpy) bikini top how hard my nipples were as her thumbs grazed the skin right below my breasts. She then proceeded to do my legs, standing up and bending over to do so. I forced myself to close my eyes because really, her breasts dangling in front of me was just too much to take.

When she finished, she ordered me to flip over, so I did. She straddled me again and once again, it was nearly impossible for me to ignore the heath surging through my body. Her hands were again working their magic, my legs first, then my back. Her fingers slipped under my top all the way up to my shoulders. Then she was finished and jumped off me as if what she just done was no big deal. Well, okay, in reality there really wasn't. We used to do this all the time.

"Come on, Q. My turn."

I stood up, my legs still shaking, to let her take my place. In a daze, I went through the motions of rubbing her body with the lotion. I didn't allow myself to think at all, to really look at her. I knew that as soon as I stopped doing it mechanically and let my feelings come into play, I'd be done with.

I finished and draped my own towel over the other lounge chair, sunbathing and pretending like we were still just best friends and nothing more was going on.

After a while, Santana dived into the pool gracefully. I followed suit. We were doing laps along the same speed and being on the Cheerios clearly paid off.

"You know, with this kind of weather I'm thinking of taking up swimming daily," Santana said after twenty laps. "I want to keep fit while I'm off the Cheerios. I don't want to have any trouble when I come back. You've no idea how fucking tempting it is to binge of junk food when Sue's not there to watch your every meal and snack."

I laughed. "She can't see into our houses, Santana. She wouldn't know if you ate tons of chocolate every day, as long as you do it as home."

Santana scowled. "Right. That's how she knew I ate a cheeseburger."

We both exited the pool to catch some sun before the day had progressed too far. As much as I loved Glee club, this was a nice change from listening to Berry ranting on and on about the importance of musicals in education.

After a while, Santana turned her head to me, squinting her eyes. It made me feel slightly uncomfortable, so I asked: "What?"

"Do you think I need a boob job?" she asked bluntly.

I was startled. "What? Who told you that?"

Santana shrugged. "Nobody," she mumbled.

"Santana..."

"Nobody! I was just wondering. I saw this documentary on TV and... you know. I was just wondering if maybe I needed one."

"You do realise that Sue would kick right off the Cheerios again if she ever found out, right? Or worse, degrade you to the bottom of the pyramid."

"I know," Santana said in a whiny voice. "But I just... she wouldn't have to find out."

"I still don't get what got into that pretty little head of yours," I sighed.

Santana stood up and straddled me again, her knees resting next to my hips. She blocked the sun. My throat went dry.

"What are you doing?" I asked hoarsely.

"Feel them."

"What?"

"I said: feel them. Come on, grab 'em and tell me if you think that I need a boob job."

"I don't have to feel them to know that you don't..."

She smiled at me playfully, almost as if she saw right through me – but how could she, when I'd only realised it myself?

"Come on, Q, don't be a fucking wuss." She grabbed my hands and placed them on her boobs. I whimpered. They felt so right, so... soft. I couldn't help but squeeze them softly. I felt her nipples in the palm of my hands and could have sworn my bikini bottom was soaked when she pushed her lithe body into me.

"So...?" she asked.

I tried to swallow, but failed. "You... you definitely don't need a boob job. They're perfect."

Santana got off me and went back to her lounge chair. "I guess I'll have to think up another birthday present from daddy then."

I laughed out loud, partially because I found the thought of her asking her dad for a boob job funny and partially to release the tension that had been building up inside of me.

I looked at her outstretched body and knew it for sure: I was in love with Santana Rosa Maria Lopez and I wanted to fuck her more than anything.


	4. Is That You?

**A/N: Yep, second one of the day. I really was in a writing mood, apparently. I don't even have the time to be writing, but I just couldn't help it.**

**A disclaimer, just for good measure: nothing is mine. Except the OCs ofc. **

**Thanks for adding this to your story alerts! Read & review, because reviews are love. **

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><p>I bury my face in my hands and yawn, followed by a stretch. I've been staring at the computer screen for too long now and decide that I will check my latest "chapter" later. I've found it enjoyable to write about our early days, reflecting on how it all came about.<p>

Maybe it'd be cool if Santana would also write down her thoughts like this and then we could compare, but I know she's too busy so I won't ask her to. Thinking of my beautiful, sexy wife does give me an idea, though. I've only been home for a week and I'm already bored out of my mind. I feel like I'm suffocating in this appartment, but Santana insisted that I stay home early in the pregnancy to ensure that nothing goes wrong. She's worried and it's cute, but it gets a bit much sometimes.

I decide to take her somewhere for lunch. I don't visit her there often because I know she would feel uncomfortable about it, but she can't hide the fact that she loves showing me off to colleagues. Also, it's been a while since I've been there. And knowing my Tana, she won't eat as regularly as she should. Her assistant has told me before that she isn't shy skipping lunch.

I'm thinking sushi or Mexican. She loves that. I pack everything up, check if I have everything – keys, cellphone, wallet, handbag.

As I'm driving to her office, I think of how many women keep working until they're already 8 months. But my Tana just wouldn't have it. I guess I do understand that she doesn't want the stress of my job at the law firm get to me too much. Sometimes she's so protective that it drives me nuts, but it also always reminds me of just how much she loves me. Granted, she has calmed down over the years, but if anyone just looks at me in a way that she doesn't like, she's fuming. She still has that terrible temper. I dread to think what she will do if one of the boys gets teased later. I always joke that she'll end up in prison for assault one day. I of course hope that she never does, because really, I'd be totally lost without her.

I park my car near the park and decide to walk the last few blocks. I take in the fresh air – as fresh as it gets in New York City. I think back to the first time we came here together, with Glee club for nationals. She was so into Brittany and my heart was breaking. I was upholding the pretence that I wasn't interested in girls that way. I think back to that hotel room, her hand on my back, her voice telling me that she knew how to make me feel better, the surge of arousal that went through my body, how much I was on fire. My answer. I still smile bitterly at the irony. It's fucking ridiculous how long we both kept beating around the bush.

I arrive at her building and greet the porter, Mark Jennings. I know his name from my previous visits and always remember to say hi to him. My brief period as a waitress has really made me see how invisible these people are to most.

I walk to the elevator and hold it open for a man who comes running. He enters, still panting.

"Thanks, miss..."

"Fabray-Lopez," I smile.

"Oh, you must be Angelo's wife?" he says, his breathing steadied. "I thought you were further along with your pregnancy. Congratulations!"

"No, actually, I'm Santana's wife." This guy is probably new – he looks young enough. He really looks like he should be working at some big ass PR firm. He's the all-American boy, the kind every straight girl and gay boy has a crush on in high school.

"Oh, of course. I didn't know..."

I can't help but laugh. "You didn't know Santana was gay or you didn't know she had a pregnant wife?"

"Both," he blushes.

I put my hand on his arm. "It's okay, don't worry. Lopez is a common name and a lot of people work here. Do you know Santana?"

His blush deepens. "Well... um... she's kind of my boss."

Something about him tells me that's not all there is to it. "Let me guess; you asked her out?"

I can see the panic in his eyes. Yep, Santana did make her reputation around here. "It was before I knew she was my boss. She's so young, you know? And I thought I had a no, but I could get a yes."

The elevator door opens and we both exit it at the same time.

"Abbott, you better not be hitting on my wife," a familiar voice snarls. I turn around in surprise, having expected Santana to be in her office.

"Of course not, ms Lopez," he smiles nervously. "As a matter of fact, I have to go. Fosters-"

"Whatever," she dismisses him with a condescending gesture, as if she's wiping crumbs off a table.

I scowl at her. "Is that how you treat all your colleagues?"

Santana rolls her eyes as we walk to her office. She takes my hand and laces our fingers together firmly, sending off a message.

"No, just him. He's a dickhead, only got the job because of his daddy. And he tried to hit on me. He tries to hit on every female with a pulse around here."

"So there are also females without a pulse?" I asked nonchalantly as we turn a corner and enter her office.

She closes the door behind me. "No, of course not, just saying. So," she changes the subject. "To what do I owe the honour of a visit from my ridiculously hot wife?"

"I'm taking you out for lunch," I say smugly. "Does sushi sound okay?"

She frowns. "Just a second."

She picks up her phone. "James... yeah, you can bring it to my office later. Listen, stop whatever it is you're doing and find me the safest sushi restaurant for pregnant women in New York. Low mercury levels. Right. If something happens to the baby, I'll sue you. Okay."

I sigh as I sit down. "You should really consider treating your co-workers with a little bit of respect, Tana."

She looks genuinely surprised. "You're talking to Santana Lopez. I'm not breaking them down every five minutes, this is me showing them respect."

"I know that, but that's because I know you. They don't."

"So what, I have to thank them for doing what they're paid to do."

"It'd be kind. They'll also be more loyal to you." I see her face. "Yes, they already are, but only because they're paid to nod and say yes. You should consider the value of a good relationship with your colleagues. It'll be so much easier to work together."

"Why did you take that Psychology course again at Uni?"

"Tana... please. Just... do it for me, okay?"

I walk up to her and wrap my arms around her, kissing her neck softly, making sure not to leave a mark. I lick her neck all the way up to her ear. One hand moves to her ass, the other one is rubbing her stomach. "I promise you a great time tonight," I whisper before taking her earlobe between my lips.

She shudders. Relents.

"Fine," she groans eventually. Her hand cups my face, our lips meet and I fall into the kiss. Just as she licks my lower lip, requesting acces, her phone rings.

"Joder," she groans and moves away to pick it up. "Santana Lopez," she tries to sound as professional as possible, but fails miserably. Instead, she sounds like she's saying "this better be freaking important..."

"Great, James." I raise my eyebrow at her. She rolls her eyes. "Thanks." Pause. "Don't push it!" she says, nearly horrified, ending the phone call.

"See, that wasn't very hard," I tease her, draping my arms around her neck and pulling her close for another kiss. "Let's go. I'm hungry."

"Me too," she says, staring at my chest.

"Later, Tana. When you get home."

"Somehow, I feel like I might get off early today," she mutters.

We leave her office hand in hand. I can see that many people are packing up for lunch.

"Oh. My. God!" a vagualy familiar voice exclaims. "Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez! You have got to be kidding me!"

We turn around. "Kurt Hummel!" we say simultaneously – the only difference is that I sound excited and Santana sounds exasperated.

He swaggers over to us. I must say that he looks good. He pulls us both in for a hug and I can feel that it takes Santana all she has not to push him away.

"Wow, so you guys are still together?"

"No, I just like to hold hands with a pregnant woman," Santana says mockingly. Kurt knows better than to take it in jest.

"So, a boy or a girl?" he asks, referring to my small bump.

Now Santana's pride kicks in. "Two boys," she grins, wrapping her arm around my waist and pulling me closer, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

"Actually, we were just going to have sushi. Do you wanna join?" I invite him.

"Babe," Santana mutters under her breath.

"Hm?" I ask her, pulling her away a little. Kurt waits patiently.

"I thought we were going to have sex," she whispers softly in my ear.

"How did you get that idea? I said tonight?"

"I know... but I thought... you know, maybe in the bathroom." She looks like a child hearing that she won't get her favourite cookie after lunch, but has to wait for dinner. She pouts a bit, looking at me with puppy eyes.

"Santana Lopez, tonight. Now we are going to have lunch with Kurt and catch up."

"Fine," she huffs. She turns back to Kurt. "You're in luck, Hummel. The wife seems to want to catch up with you for a reason completely alien to me."

"I'm the wife now?" I fake indignation. We all walk to the elevator.

"I see you haven't changed one bit," Kurt smiles. We enter the elevator. "You know, I think we all thought you'd grow apart in college and move on."

"Move on from Quinn Fabray?" Santana asks in a high-pitched voice. "As if."

"So, how is everyone doing?" I ask as we ride down.

"Well, Blaine and I are still together. He's currently working on a project with Rachel, who is still with Puck. Finn teaches Sex Ed and Biology at McKinley and co-directs New Directions."

Santana bursts out in laughter as she grips her stomach. "Finn? Sex Ed? Seriously?"

Kurt can't help but smile. "I know. The irony isn't lost on anyone. I don't know about the others, actually. Hey!" he then claps his hands. "We should have a reunion with the Glee club!"

"That sounds like a great idea, Kurt," I say. I know Santana thinks otherwise – she's still paranoid that Finn and Puck will come after me – but with a squeeze in the hand I let her know not to voice her opinion just for once.

"Ms Fabray – Lopez ," Mark nods as we exit the elevator again. Santana turns her head abruptly and narrows her eyes.

"How does he know you?" she asks me quietly.

It's my turn to roll my eyes. "From my visits and because I said hi on the way up."

"He hasn't tried anything fishy?"

"Santana! Not _every_ guy wants to get into my pants."

"Hmm... whatever. I trust you."

"I only love you, Tana."

"Yeah, Q. I love you too," she says, taking hold of my hand.

"Aww, you two are so cute!" Kurt says happily. "I can't wait to tell Blaine about this."

"Don't you tell anyone I'm cute," Santana says. She seems to have softened a little. "I have a reputation around here."

"Of course," Kurt nods seriously.

"Actually, Kurt, how come you're here?" Santana asks him genuinely.

"I work for William McMahon, your firm represents him."

"William McMahon, fashion designer?" I ask, suddenly interested. "My firm represents him legally!"

"What a small world!" Kurt coos. Santana rolls her eyes. I squeeze her hand affectionately. Nothing much has changed indeed.


	5. A Bad Day

**A/N: First of all - thank you for the reviews, favourites and alerts. I know it's been two weeks since I updated, but I had exams and I wanted this chapter to come out right. I've been working on it for a few days, trying to figure out how to do this. Originally, the chapter was longer, but then it became too long compared to the others. It really was a puzzle which scene to fit where, so I hope this comes out decently. I've decided to break it up in two parts. Chapter 6 will once again be set in the future and Chapter 7 will continue where I left this off.**

**I used a scene from Glee near the end of the chapter. I tweaked it a little bit to fit my story, but the dialogue pretty much comes directly from the episode. You'll recognise it - so those words are RIB's, not mine.**

**I know that Santana and Quinn might appear very OOC, especially in the high school chapters, but remember that the way they are described is how they are with each other - something we barely get to see on the show because they're always fighting. I've tried to keep them as IC as possible with the difference that they're best friends here. I know it seems like Brittany is being pushed to the background and of no importance at all, but I'm still trying to figure out how to fit her in. I think that'll become clear in the next few chapters.**

**For those interested - I'm most probably going to write another chapter from "With a Little Help From a Friend". You'll find that I'm a softie and I'll often say "this is a one-off", only to make it into a multiple chapter story if enough people ask me to.**

**That said - I am also planning out a new fic that I haven't started writing yet. Basically, it's S3, Brittana-centered, second focus being Quinndependence. I've already collected some ideas, but if there's anything you'd like to see in S3, let me know. Storylines, songs you'd like to hear certain characters sing, scenes... whatever you can come up with. Let me know in review or by messaging me and I'll try to include it. This story might not be up for a while and it might be up tomorrow, I haven't decided yet.**

**Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me but to RIB and FOX, the storyline is mine. The dialogue used in this chapter near the end comes from episode 2.08 I believe.**

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><p>I was startled to find my mother in the kitchen that morning, nursing a cup of coffee. Instead of taking careful sips, she practically drowned it in one go. As soon as she heard me, she turned towards me.<p>

"Ah, Quinnie, there you are. Listen -" she stopped mid-sentence as she looked over my outfit. She scrunched up her nose. "Are you going to wear that to school?"

"Yes, mom, I am. For this once that I don't have to wear my uniform, I'll wear something I like." Principal Figgins had decided that once a month, nobody was allowed to wear any clothing that alluded to any clubs they belonged to. He had probably figured it would help overcome some boundaries, but if he thought this would work...

"I think you should go and pick another outfit. We got you all those nice clothes last time we went out shopping together."

"That was five years ago, mom. Those don't even fit me anymore. And besides, I like this."

"But Quinn! It's..." I looked down – was it that bad? I had chosen a plaid button-up shirt, 3/4 sleeves and skinny tight jeans. I hadn't tied my hair in its usual ponytail, but held it back with a plastic headband that matched my shirt. My make-up was light as always, so light that people barely noticed.

"It's what, mom?" I asked, bracing myself for the answer. She set down her cup and walked over to me, placing her hands on my shoulders.

"It's horrendous! And are you going out smelling like _that_? I buy you perfume for a reason, Quinn. I also noticed you have yet to write that report on the movie we watched. I couldn't find it in your binder."

"Mom! Have you been going through my things again?"

She didn't even blush. "Well, yes, and frankly I'm disappointed. I watched it with you so that you could ask me for help and we could bond, because I have been trying, Quinn. But you seem intent on being rebellious these past few weeks. What is going on with you? And have you seen Derek at all? I thought you two got along so well?"

I sighed. The day had barely just begun and I was already developing a headache. "First of all – I don't appreciate you going through my stuff. Secondly, I'm not being rebellious, I'm just trying to be myself because I'm so tired of being perfect all the time when I can't be. And I haven't seen Derek because Derek's not interested in me and he will never be." I just managed to stop myself from telling mom he was gay. How could she not see that? He was way up there with Kurt when it came to being obvious.

Judy Fabray's face hardened. "I don't appreciate your tone, Lucy Fabray." I flinched. Low blow. "Being yourself will get you nowhere in life. God, haven't we raised you better than this? Have we been such terrible parents? And how can you expect Derek to find you attractive when you're walking around like that? You have to try harder, Quinn. You have to put yourself out there. You have to make him want you."

_Not gonna happen unless I magically grow a penis overnight, _I thought to myself. Just as I decided not to comment anymore as it would only make matters worse, my mother added: "Oh, and by the way, you'll have to take Katie to school. And then you also need to pick up some groceries. I put a list on the table. I have an emergency meeting with the LWC regarding the fundraiser we're attending in New York at the end of the month and I have to go, but I invited Rita Mayhew and Lara Carson over for coffee this afternoon."

"Mom, you do realise I have school, right?"

"Quinn! I need you to do this. I'm sure you'll catch up whatever you miss. I have to go now. Bye bye, dear."

And with that, she was gone.

I was fuming. I hated myself for allowing her to pull this one on me again. I had to keep myself from screaming and punching the wall in frustration. I tried to reason with myself that I couldn't change the situation and decided to just get on with it and get Katie ready.

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><p>A gentle breeze played with my hair as I exited my car. The school yard was desolate, as would be expected when arriving in the middle of second period. I stomped through the doors, trying to control my anger. My mother's words were still echoing in my head. I took a moment to collect myself.<p>

I finally reached the classroom. After a quick knock, I entered and slumped down in the first vacant seat I could find. I groaned when I noticed my neighbour was Jacob Ben Israel – or rather, smelled it was him. I was about to find myself another seat when the teacher informed me that he was pleased that I had found myself available to attend his class. His smug tone sickened me, his daunty smile made me want to push him against the wall. I shrugged, didn't respond, and he went back to whatever it was he was discussing. At the end of the lesson, he gave us a task to be handed in the next day. I groaned. I was sure my mom would want to have a word with me about my "attitude". Ever since I came to the realisation that I was in love with Santana, a whole new world of possibilities had opened itself to me. I suddenly saw that I could be anyone and that I didn't _have_ to become my mother. It brought about many, many rows at home. Their good, Christian girl had seemingly disappeared.

During the morning break, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I was just about ready to make a snide remark when I recognised the feel of it. I sighed in relief, turned around and found a smoking hot Latina looking at me in concern. Santana Lopez was clad in a pair of skinny tight jeans, a boat neck shirt and a blazer. I noticed immediately that she had chosen her push-up bra and found it hard to avert my eyes to her beautiful face. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail resting on her left shoulder. I wanted to take her in my arms and press our bodies together until we forgot where we stopped and the other started.

"Where were you during first period, Q?" Her deep voice seemed to envelop me. "You're never late for class, unless..."

I looked down, but only momentarily. I then found a point behind her and chose to stare at that. Couldn't have passers-by thinking I was insecure. She rubbed my shoulder softly. She searched my eyes, to no avail. She then grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the janitor's closet. She looked around, waited until the crowd had gone out and then ushered me inside.

She turned around to face me, closing the door behind her. "Okay, Q, what's up?"

"It's mom," my voice cracked. "She... she totally ambushed me again. She made me take care of Katie and take her to school, and she was guilt tripping on me again and being completely irrational and I just can't stand it anymore, the way she's suffocating me. On top of that, Dad's been working longer hours again lately and I'm scared that mom'll think that he's sleeping around again and will return to alcohol as her solace and things will get ugly again and I'll have to be there for Katie again but I can't anymore, I just... I'm not the same. I don't feel the same. I don't feel like I'm the Quinn that was around last time she suspected he was cheating. I can't forget myself like that again. I know I should, for Katie, but I... I don't have the energy. I have to lie to mom all the time, she's all up in my business and it takes so much... it drains me so much, you know?"

_And it drains me not to be able to jump your bones and kiss you and make love to you and be inside of you and all around you._

"I fucking hate this mess." My voice shook. I hardly ever swore. She knew that. She knew that I was flailing. I did everything I could not to burst out in tears. She didn't say anything and that was fine. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me to her chest. My head automatically nestled in her shoulder. Her familiar smell overwhelmed me and I felt a strange pull in the pit of my stomach. That mix of musk and a faint hint of cigars did things to me.

Finally, she spoke. "It'll be over, Quinn. Some day, it'll be over. You'll be a succesful lawyer and I'll kick ass at whatever it is I'm going to do and we're going to be best friends. We're going to be there, but you're not going to deal with your mom, or your dad."

"I just... it's so long until college, and I look forward to it to escape this shithole, but then I'm so afraid of being away from you."

"Hey, Q, we've known each other since you were Lucy Caboosey. Something as silly as college is not going to tear us apart. If you find yourself falling for another douche like Finn, I'll be there in a second to kick his sorry ass when he hurts you, even if I end up at the other side of the country. I'll still be there for you. Whatever happens, we'll stick together. I promise you, Q."

I was about to comment that college could hardly be called silly, but let it go. Instead, I soaked up her words and let her calming voice wash over me.

"Thanks, Tana."

"You know I love you. Listen, don't feel bad about being a bitch to me today. I get it. You'll need to rant. Do you want me to come over tonight?"

"No, I have to do this thing for Spanish by tomorrow and the half of the lesson that I didn't miss was too complicated. I just didn't even pay attention. Couldn't be bothered and I'm still angry and desperate for breath."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Q, you're not going to waste your time on Spanish. Give me that task, I'll fill it out during history. You just copy it on your sheet later."

I nodded. She held me at arm's length and searched my eyes. She put her hands on my shoulders and said: "You're Quinn Fabray. You're the strongest bitch I know. Now go out there and be the HBIC I know you are. Make me proud," she smiled playfully before pressing a soft kiss next to my eye. That was the spot we kissed the other for courage.

The bell rang and Santana opened the door. She looked around, slipped out and I followed her a few minutes later. We obviously weren't doing the dirty in there, but we didn't want to give people the wrong idea. It dawned on me that it was the first time I thought to myself that I actually wouldn't have minded doing the dirty with her in the janitor's closet.

The rest of the morning dragged on. During lunch break, I went outside with Santana. I didn't feel like sitting with the jocks and the Cheerios to listen to their shallow stories and their bragging, their bitching and their competition. I also didn't feel like sitting with Glee club, all of them nagging to know what had gotten me in such a foul mood, Puck undoubtedly joking I needed to get laid. After all this time, he still didn't see that it wasn't funny.

Santana and I sat in silence. We didn't mind, in fact it was typical. Sometimes, we said more without words. We had our lunch and we watched people walk by. When I was finished, I rested my head on her shoulder and she put her arm around me.

"Hey, Q," she said after a while.

"Hm?"

Santana took a deep breath. "It'll all be over a few years from now. This," she gestured, alluding to the school grounds, "this will be just a memory very soon. You don't have to stay here in Lima. You're the strongest person I know, Q. You'll get there. You are the one person I know that reaches any goal she sets for herself. I mean, you had it all planned out. Become a Cheerio, become Captain of the Cheerios, prom queen..."

I let out a dry chuckle. "Too bad the pregnancy thing got in the way."

"But look at you now. Those losers in there cower in fear if your eyes happen to fall on them."

"Do you want to be prom queen?" I blurted out. Santana wasn't lying when she put that on my list of future accomplishments, but things had changed so much since that had been my priority.

Santana shrugged. "I don't know. I've thought a lot about it. I mean, to be honest? Yes. I'd love to be prom queen. For once, I'd love to be the winner, the number one. I don't like coming second, but that's always how I end up. But I know how much it means to you and I know your sister has an immaculate prom queen resume that you have to live up to. My mom would support me if I wanted to go for it, but it doesn't really matter to her. I decided that I'm not going to run for prom queen to enhance your chances even more."

Santana must have been having a good day because she had never been this honest with me before. "You know, Santana... you run for prom queen. I don't want to do it. I don't care what my mother says, I doubt she can get any worse. To me, it's just a title to add to the list. I think I would be happier to see you crowned queen than to wear the crown myself."

She looked at me, her gaze piercing, searching my eyes for any hint of insecurity or deceit. She obviously found nothing. "Are you sure, Q?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay, here's the deal. If I run this year and you help me win, we'll reverse roles next year. I don't care how much you changed, you've wanted Homecoming queen as long as I've known you and I want you to be."

"Deal."

I felt something funny in my chest at the thought of Santana as prom queen. She totally deserved it, but I couldn't help but wondering who she'd campaign with to be king.

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><p>I had calmed down over lunch a bit, but just before the next period started, I had received a text from my mother telling me how disappointed she was in me and that I should find another place to stay the night. I knew what that meant – she was planning on drinking herself into forgetting the fact that dad had been neglecting her and she didn't want me to see her that way. As angry as I was then, I had no idea there would come a time that I looked back to these days with sadness because my mom at least still cared enough to not want me to see her that way. Later, she wouldn't give a shit about it anymore.<p>

We were sitting in Glee club. We were discussing how we were going to pay our tickets to Regionals. I couldn't care less at that moment. Finn was standing in front of us, telling us about his plan.

"The fact is that I'm the closest thing this Glee club has to a celebrity right now."

Mr Schue's face mimicked my thoughts: What. The. Hell. Where did this cockiness suddenly come from?

Finn continued. "And just like a famous athlete, I want to give to a charity: you guys. So, I'm setting up a kissing booth. A dollar a smooch. I'm donating the proceeds to Glee club to help us."

Everyone was still staring at him as if he had just announced that he wasn't really human, just an alien in a human's body.

Mercedes was the first to speak up. "Don't even act like you're trying to help the Glee club out, you just want to kiss a bunch of girls."

Santana raised her hand. I wondered what vile words she was going to come up with now. Yes, Santana was mean, but she was also very entertaining.

"You know, I've kissed Finn, and can I just say – not worth a buck. I would, however, pay a hundred dollars to jiggle one of his man boobs." She acted it out for good measure. I kept myself from giggling.

Finn squeezed his eyes a little. "Do you ever get tired of tearing other people down?"

"No, not really," Santana answered honestly.

"'Cause you always seem to be meddling in everyone else's business."

"Oh please," Santana rolled her eyes. "You guys love me. I keep it real and I'm hilarious."

"Actually, you're just a bitch," Lauren remarked. I turned to glare at her, but was wise enough not to try and pick a fight I couldn't win.

"Okay," Santana said, turning around. "I'm sorry. You just got eyes for my man."

I bit my cheek. I hated it that she still thought of Puck as her man. They had been over for a long time now and I knew for a fact that Santana had never loved him or liked him enough to be like this after all this time. I still hadn't managed to get her to tell me why she acted this way.

"Okay, first of all, I'm not your man." Puck sounded irritated.

"And Finn is right, all you ever do is insult us," Artie added. "You keep calling me Stubbles McCripple Pants and you keep making offensive leg jokes."

Tina also added her two cents. "Five minutes ago, you said Mr Schue belonged in a twelve step program."

"Wait, what?" Mr Schue asked, disbelief clear in his voice.

"You're addicted to vests," Santana shrugged.

"The truth is, Santana," Rachel concluded. "You can dish it out, but you can't take it."

I wondered where all this hostility suddenly was coming from. I felt that if they had such a problem with Santana, they should confront her with it and not just all attack her at once.

"Maybe you're right," Rachel continued in that self-important tone of hers, "maybe I'm destined to play the title role in the Broadway musical version of _Willow_, but the only job you're gonna have is working on a pole."

That was it. Santana barely reacted, but I was out of my seat before I knew I was doing. I stalked over towards Rachel, all the anger that had been building up inside of me was boiling over. I grabbed her collar. "Santana has ten times the brain you have, she just doesn't fucking flaunt it," I spat before my hand met her cheek in a bitch slap that left a red mark. I wanted to shove her away, but Puck, Sam and Mike held me back.

"Calm down, Quinn!" He had to use all his strength. Rachel's hand had found its way to her cheek and she looked at me in shock. I tried to break free from the grip, but obviously, I wasn't strong enough. I turned to look at Santana. Her eyes showed surprise, appreciation and pride.

"Fine," she said, walking over to me. "Come on, Quinn. We don't need these people."

I shrugged the guys off of me and followed Santana outside.

"Santana, Quinn," Mr Schue tried. We walked on. Once we left the door behind us, she turned to me and smiled.

"At least I'd look hot on a pole," she shrugged, playfully smirking but unable to hide the pain in her eyes.

I put my hand on her arm. "You would, but you can do so much better. Fuck, they don't know you like I do. I know you, Tana."

I knew this was painful to her because Glee club was the only place at school where she felt somewhat safe. That didn't mean she softened up there – she wouldn't know how not to be a bitch to anyone but me and Brittany if you put a gun to her head. That was just the way she was to everyone. That was just her guard, her shield. She didn't hate these people anymore, not by far, but she had become so used to being a bitch all the time that she couldn't tell the difference anymore.

I fished my phone out of my pocket, opened my mom's text and showed it to her.

She sighed. "Tonight, we're going to the movies and then you're staying over at my place," she decided. "Let's go watch that new horror film, _Insidious_. It'll keep your mind off stuff."

My lips curled into a small smile. "That sounds great, Tana."


	6. Special Relationships

**A/N: This one turned out longer than I'd expected. The idea for the first part came to me today as I was tuning out of a boring conversation (boring because the person I was speaking to wasn't speaking very clearly and I grew tired of having to ask to repeat every other sentence). The last part was a very vague idea that actually turned out to work better than I'd expected. Actually, this entire chapter consists of stuff that came along as I was writing and that wasn't planned. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Once this is posted, I might work on the next installment for "With a Little Help from a Friend". After that, I'll write the next chapter for this one. Then I'm going to finish the first chapter for "Santana's Scheme" and upload that here. As it's 11:17 PM and I only fell asleep around 5AM this morning, all these things might only be written and posted tomorrow.**

**I'm still open to suggesting regarding the Brittana + Quinndependence S3 fic, so if there's anything you would like to see happen, contact me in the way you see fit!**

**This one is for IWantMaStix - thank you so much for the incredibly insightful and rich e-mails.**

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><p>When I open the door to the apartment and drop the heavy shopping bags on the floor, I see my wife standing in front of the window. I don't know if I'm surprised, aroused or preparing myself for the lecture I'm about to get for carrying heavy bags. It's only noon and I didn't know that she would be home this early.<p>

Santana turns around and smirks at me. Oh god. She saunters towards me, that predatory look in her eyes all too familiar. She's wearing her tiny black shorts. Really, really tiny. Barely there. She's also wearing the _Born This Way_ shirt saying 'Lebanese'. It doesn't surprise me that it still fits her after all these years. She wears her knee-high heels comfortably. Her hair is falling down her shoulders. She busts some moves on the way over, dorky as she is, and still manages to look so fucking hot that I doubt I'll be able to refrain myself from turning into a puddle. How the fuck is this woman mine and how the fuck is the entire world not absolutely in love with her?

She presses her body against mine and immediately goes for my earlobe, taking it between her teeth and sucking on it. My body is on fucking fire as I feel her breasts against me and I smell her, still that same smell from high school, I feel her everywhere. I whimper and she leans back.

"Hi."

"H-hi." My mouth is dry. Some other place, however, is very wet. The mere _thought_ of that outfit brings out my inner lesbian primate.

"Couch."

"Okay."

"You're by the way lucky I left the office early to have some mind-blowing sex with you or I'd be telling you off for carrying those heavy bags. But right now, I really am too wet to bother about that."

Holy fuck. This woman.

I let myself fall back on the couch and she immediately straddles my lap, planting her hands next to my head and pushing herself closer until our stomachs touch. She takes my hands and brings them to her bottom. I bite my lip – this is _exactly_ why I love those shorts. I slide my hands over her buttocks and squeeze them softly.

She brings her hands to her own waist and drags them up, over her breasts, touching herself. When she brings her hands to her neck and leans backwards running a hand through her long hair, I can't control myself. I want to rip her shirt off, but I settle for one hand cupping her breast.

I drag her head down, kissing her on the lips roughly. Soon, I feel her hot, wet tongue exploring the rough of my mouth, then her perfect lips wrapping themselves around my tongue, sucking vigorously. I moan in her mouth, my hands tugging at the hem of her shirt.

She raises her arms and I pull the shirt up, biting her bottom lip lightly before letting go momentarily so I can take it off.

"Oh fuck," I groan when I notice that she's wearing her black, strapless bra. My hands find their way to her shoulder blades and I press her body closer, keeping the pressure as I slide my hands down to her bottom. She grinds her hips into mine as she finds the soft spot in my neck. I throw my head back in pleasure and she attacks my skin. She deftly unbuttons my shirt and hastily pushes it off my shoulders. I stretch my back to push my body forwards and she gets rid of shirt, taking my bra off next and with a content sigh, she starts rolling around a nipple between her fingers, tweaking it lightly.

I take her bra off and throw it behind me. I take in the sight in front of me. Her hair is over one shoulder, her flawless tan skin seems to glow. Her chest is heaving, her perky breasts ready to be touched, her probably painfully erect nipples begging for me to have my way with them. My gaze wanders lower, over her taut stomach with that perfect outline of her abs. I press my fingers to them and her muscles react. The sight is just so damn sexy. Then my eyes find her killer legs, her thighs beckoning. My eyes seem to try to burn through the shorts.

"Are you real?" I ask hoarsely. I look back up at her face and see her dilated pupils. She grabs my wrist and brings it to her sex. I take in a sharp breath at the wetness seeping through.

"I woke up this morning wanting to fuck you. I have spent all morning in the office thinking about the millions of different ways I wanted to drape you over my desk, chair, couch, coffee table and fuck you, the millions of different ways I wanted to fuck you against every fucking surface in that room. I am so fucking hot and bothered that I need to come and I need to come fast, so stop the teasing and the staring and make me forget my name. Then it's all about you. I am very intent on fucking you to the point where you can't feel your legs anymore."

I nearly come at those words, spoken in that raspy, deep sex voice of hers. Her voice is always sex, but once she's horny it becomes so sensual that it should be illegal.

I latch my lips to her nipple and waste no time, immediately biting down on it. She squeels, but immediately reacts by pushing her upper body into my mouth. I graze my nails over her other nipple, down to her stomach where I spread my fingers and press my palm down on her belly button.

"Fuck, Q," she pants. She lifts her hips to bring my hand closer. I need those shorts to come off and nearly cry when I have to stop my ministrations for a few seconds. When she sits back down, I notice the thong. I recognise it – it was expensive but frankly, if she really was that keen on it, she should've known better than to wear it around a horny pregnant woman. The ripping sound overpowers our heavy breathing and moans.

I slide two fingers inside her folds and her wetness amazes me. I don't think she's ever been this wet this soon before. I pull at her lips and she cries out, moving her pelvis against my hand. The palm of my hand is pressed against the area of her clit and she gyrates her hips to increase pressure. I push my fingers down until the tips graze the very bottom of her sex, moving my hand up. I then bring my hand up to taste her.

"No, Q, I need... OH!" The sound comes from deep within her chest. I have just taken her hips and forcefully pulled her upwards all the way to my face. Never underestimate the physical strength of a woman intent on tasting her lover, especially when she's pregnant. That and the fact that Santana is incredibly light.

I bring her to my mouth and give her sex an open-mouthed kiss, my lower teeth scraping the bottom of her clit.

"Quinnnnnn," she pants, steadying herself by planting her hands on the headrest of the couch. She then buckles her hips downwards as I suck, bite, kiss and lick her swollen flesh.

"Oh yes yes yes yes yes," she breathes. We create a steady rhythm that increases rapidly. My tongue finds her entrance and I plunge it inside, licking her walls until I find that spot. My nose causes friction for her clit. I lick languidly at first, but soon start pumping the muscle in and out of her.

"Oh Quinnnnnn, fuck fuck fuck, yes, right, oh, holy, Quinn, sweet baby Jesus right _there_!" she cries out as she comes hard.

I give her a moment to breathe and then pull her body down until our faces meet in a sloppy kiss, the lower half of my face still covered in juices. She cleans it up. I toy with her nipple and she presses her perfect body into mine.

"You're still wearing your heels," I grin. She slaps my arm playfully before twisting her body until she can rest her head in the nape of my neck.

* * *

><p>"Kurt sent an e-mail regarding the Glee club reunion," I tell my wife, my hands cupping her ass and still squeezing it softly. It feels so damn good.<p>

Santana rolls her eyes. "I don't care for it. Why would I want to see them again?"

"Because they were the only ones that put up with your shit and still supported you when we came out to the entire school."

"You're acting like they're our best friends. They pulled some wanky shit on us."

"That's high school for you, Santana," I shrug. I take the laptop, open it and go in search of the e-mail. I force the Latina to read it.

_From: Kurt Hummel_

_To: Artie Abrams; Rachel Puckerman Berry; Tina Cohen-Chang; Mike Chang; Mercedes Jones Evans; Sam Evans; Quinn Fabray-Lopez; Santana Fabray-Lopez; Brittany Pierce; William Schuester; Finn Zizes; Lauren Zizes_

_Subject: Glee club reunion!_

_New Directions members,_

_I hope you all remember me! It's taken me some time to find all of your current e-mailaddresses, but I naturally succeeded. Recently, I ran into Quinn and Santana and we all agreed on how marvellous it would be to have a New Directions reunion!_

_It's been a little over ten years since New Directions was founded by Mr Schuester. We have all spread across the country and developed varying careers, so it should be interesting to hear how everyone is doing. I made a Doodle (click the word to open), so if you could all fill out when you are available, that would be wonderful._

_Some of us are in New York and I suggest we hold our reunion here because our former Cheerios captain, Quinn Fabray-Lopez, is pregnant and won't be allowed to fly! Congratulations on the twins, Quinn and Santana!_

_I hope to hear from all of you – of course you can all bring your significant other. _

_Kurt Hummel_

"I guess now we _have_ to go," Santana groans. "How did we get dragged into this thing?"

"Oh come on, Tana," I smirk. "You know you want to show off. You know you want to brag how you managed to get me pregnant with twins from the first try, even though technically that's got nothing to do with you."

Santana grins. "I insist it has. I managed to make you so horny the seed worked extra well."

I sigh, but can't suppress a smile. "Anyway, just imagine the jealous looks you'll get when you tell them how much we're still in love, both combining it with a succesful career. Imagine their reaction when you tell them about the amazing presents you've given me. Imagine their awe when we show them the rings we got each other for our "marriage". Imagine Berry's face when you rub it in that you didn't end up on a pole, but she did end up on Broadway, still only a minor success."

I hate doing this, but I know it's convincing Santana. Her grin becomes larger with every perk I add and eventually, she caves in. "Fine, I'll go, but only for you."

She leans down to kiss my lips. Our lips merge and I still can't get over how perfect hers are. She takes a moment and leans back, her eyes searching mine. Those deep eyes seem to be taking the sight in eagerly, hungrily. She cups my jaw and her thumb tenderly strokes my cheek.

"Oh my god," I say when I notice the stray trickle of tears welling up from her eyes. "Is Santana Fabray-Lopez crying?" I have only seen her cry three times; when I confessed my love for her and explained why I loved her, at our wedding night and when I told her I was pregnant.

"Oh shut up," she sniffles. "It's just... I can't believe it, Quinn. I was always such a bitch – what did I do to deserve you? Just... look at you. You're lying there, being so ridiculously beautiful and so inhumanly perfect and I just can't. My brain just can't. I can't comprehend how it is that I'm having babies with you, that I'm actually married to you and I get to kiss you every day and I get to make love to you and take care of you and protect you. I can't comprehend how utterly meaningless my life would be without you, how empty I would be. I would be such a mess if you were gone. Holy fuck, Q, I need you in every sense of the word, in every possible nuance of meaning I need you and I love you. I love you so much that I find it frustrating that I can't give you the world, especially knowing that if I could and did give you the world, it would still be so much less than you deserve. You are my air, Quinn.

There's no world for me without you in it, and I'm scared." She rests her hand on my belly. "I'm scared because of these two guys. I mean, what am I going to do when you're gone? There was no doubt about it before – if something were to happen to you, I'd never forgive myself and I'd follow you wherever you went. I didn't vow to be true to you 'til death do us part, because I didn't believe it would. I believed that if you died, I would instantly follow you. But now, with these guys... I have to stay. I can't leave Ezra and James behind. I can't wait to be their mother and at the same time I'm scared.

I'm also scared of how fast everything is going. Right now, you're pregnant and fucking gorgeous and everything is perfect and I'm scared it'll fall apart and shatter because all good things end, but this... I can't have it end. Before we know it, Ezra and James will hit puberty and you'll have to stop me from going to the party they sneaked out of the house to go to, just to drag them back home by their ears and unload on them the Santana Lopez temper.

They will know to get you involved when I'm angry because you're the only one who can soften me down a bit. They'll probably learn Spanish from me telling them off in a rage. They'll be so fucking perfect, Q. Our babies will be boys who will be men and I'm so proud of them already. It's all so much to wrap my head around. Here I am, one minute fantasizing about the taste of Quinn Fabray, next minute being the mother of her children. I'm so scared some fucktard will notice that I never deserved you or our babies and will take you away from me."

I am honestly surprised. This is one of those rare moments when Santana opens her soul, puts her heart on the table and allows me to read it. I don't even know what to say, so I snake my hand to her neck and pull her head down to rest on my chest, right above my heart.

"You don't have to be scared, Santana. You saved me in a lot of ways. You have been my rock for my entire life. You have been the only one to really get me and support me. You helped me and held me during my gay panic when I was afraid that God would punish me.

You didn't freak out, but you comforted me and rationalised with me until I could reconcile my faith with my sexual orientation. I have always seen the real you, Tana. You're not a bitch. You're a human being who has been hurt and has put up walls, but never to me. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to leave you.

We're going to grow old together and no matter what happens, we'll always stick together. You can't do anything to make me leave and there's no way I would ever let you go."

She lets out a sigh that tickles my skin and looks up to me. I can see the pure love and adoration in her eyes. I tangle my hand in her hair and lean down to kiss her again. She meets me in the middle.

* * *

><p><strong>Santana POV<strong>

After our emotional moment earlier, I have been doing a lot of thinking. I've come to a conclusion that there are people that I want to be in Ezra's and James' life that are nowhere near it right now.

The first one is Brittany. Quinn has always been my best friend, but that doesn't mean that Brittany meant less to me. My friendship with Brittany was different. She was my first love and she broke my heart, but she has helped me through so much. She never failed to be there for me and she always accepted me. She encouraged me when I was scared. I didn't tell Quinn everything back then because her faith scared me at times or led me to belief there were things about me that she wouldn't accept. Fact is, Brittany is still very dear to me and I regret not having kept contact.

It's just so easy to lose touch when you're on different coasts. What I realised, however, is that I want Brittany to be part of these guys' lives. I want them to know her as their auntie Britt, the quirky one they can always go to if their moms are being unreasonable.

So I decide to call her. I tell Quinn about it and she understands. It takes me a bit of research to find her number – I could e-mail her with the address from Kurt's mail, but I don't have the patience.

I tap the keys nervously, missing a few times. I think to myself how ridiculous this is. Brittany used to be one of my best friends. We used to share everything. Finally, I hear the phone ringing.

After a while, I hear a click. _You have reached Brittany S. Pierce. I'm not here right now, but you can leave me a message. You know the drill._

My heart sinks a little. She sounds so... different. She sounds more grown up, but still very much like Brittany. I decide not to leave a message, preferring to speak with her in person.

I let my finger slide to the next number on the crumpled piece of paper. I am less nervous tapping this one. I start pacing the room as the phone rings. After three rings, I hear a click and a familiar voice.

"This is Frances Myers, how can I help you?"

"Hi, this is Frannie Fabray, right?" I ask, just to be sure. I know Frannie's actual name is Frances, but I don't know who she's married to.

"Yes..." the woman says hesitantly. "I'm sorry, who is this?"

"It's Santana Fabray-Lopez."

A sigh sounds loud and clear. "Look, Santana, I don't think this is a good idea."

"She's pregnant," I blurt out before Frannie can say anything else. I knew how this would go and have decided on this approach. "Quinn's pregnant. I know you don't agree with her choices, but the truth is, you're all the family she has left. You know your father – he would sooner die than be reminded of his daughter. She doesn't say it, but I know Quinn misses her mother and wishes she was here to witness the birth and life of her two sons. I'm not asking you to do this for me, Frannie. It's for Quinn. I want Quinn to have some family around and I want my boys to have an aunt. It would mean so much to Quinn if you even just visited her. I know what you think of the situation, but Quinn is still your baby sister. Had these babies been made with a husband or a boyfriend, you'd be here in a heartbeat. What does my sex change about your love for your sister? I make her happy, Frannie. Quinn is happy with me, but I know she's still raw over how things went down with your mother. She's still not really over the fact that your mom died before she could accept Quinn. If you would show your support, it would be like your mom did so too. We all know Judy just had to wrap her head around things and she would've come around, but she never got the chance to. So, Quinn's pregnant with our babies and I really want you to be a part of Ezra's and James' life, but if you don't want to be, at least just visit Quinn."

Silence.

"Frannie? Are you there?"

Another sigh. "Yes, I'm still here, Santana. I just... I don't know. This goes against everything I believe in. You know that."

"Do you think Quinn's not religious anymore because she's with me? Do you think she stopped believing in god when she fell in love with me? I'm not devout as you are, but I know your religion is about love. It's about love and kindness, not about rejection. Quinn went through the exact same struggle, she was so afraid, but she made it through and her faith is stronger than ever. Imagine how much harder it must have been on her. Whatever happens, you can't change the fact that she's your sister. At least give her a chance to explain to you how she reconciles this, how she makes it work, and then maybe you can try to make it work for you as well and be an auntie for our children."

"Where are you now?"

"New York City."

"I have to be there for business for a week next month. Leave me the address and I'll visit her."

"Thank you, Frannie. It'll mean a lot to Quinn."

Frannie's voice sounds a bit shaky when she answers: "You're right, she's still my sister and she's the only family I have. Daddy still pretends I'm not married to David, just because he's black." She lets out a humourless giggle. "How ironic that I am married to a black man and that Quinn is married to a hispanic woman. I bet it's the last thing daddy expected when raising us."

I don't really know what to say to that. "She misses you, Frannie. I know the two of you had your differences growing up and you've spent quite some time hating each other, but in the end she loves you."

"I love her too. Listen, I have to go now. Thank you for calling me. What's the address?"

I tell her and repeat it twice, just to make sure she's got it down. I'm calmer now in calling Brittany. This time, she picks up after the second ring.

"Brittany Pierce," she says simply, to the point as always.

"Hey Brit, it's Santana," I reply casually.

"Oh! Wow! Santana... wow. Sorry, it's just, it's been such a long time. How are you doing? I read Kurt's e-mail – congratulations on the babies. I'm sure they'll kick ass!"

"Thanks," I grin. "I know it's been too long. It's fucked up how long it's been. I mean, what happened to us to get this far apart? Anyway, what I wanted to ask you... I know we're supposed to meet at the reunion, but I was wondering if you could maybe come over sooner? There is so much catching up to do. I've been thinking a lot lately and I really miss you. Quinn was my best friend, she still is, but it's different of course. You know me best after her and I miss you."

"I miss you too, Santana. You're the best friend I've ever had. Uhm... I guess I could come over near the end of the month. The studio closes for a few days to do some renovations anyway and Ashley will be all over that, so I have some time to myself."

"Great. I'll be honest with you, Brit, I want you to be in our Ezra's and James' life. I want them to know my awesome friend. You gotta teach them to dance!"

"I'd love that!" I can hear the tears in her voice. "Fuck, San... who would've thought? I mean, who the fuck would've thought that you and Quinn would be having babies? And the first ones of the Glee club at that! Mike and Tina have been together for ages and they haven't started a family yet. It's so fucking unreal."

"Since when do you swear this much?" I ask teasingly. "You'll have to town it down around my guys."

"I guess it comes with living in L.A. And somehow I cannot imagine you toning your language down around them."

"I'll just curse in Spanish."

"I hold my heart for their Spanish teacher, then."

We easily fall back into chit-chat. It feels so amazingly good to talk to her again. When I notice the hour, I tell Brittany that I have to go because I want to make dinner for Quinn as a surprise. Brittany laughs at the idea of such a domestic Santana Lopez – I correct her, it's Santana Fabray-Lopez – and then I leave the address.

I walk to the kitchen with a spring in my step. Today has been nothing short of perfect.


	7. A Bad Day Aftermath

**A/N: This is what happens when I have to babysit and find myself without internet but with laptop: four updates (of which two for this story). I seem to be on a roll with this one and I have ideas for the next three future chapters, but the high school part is slightly stuck - not writer's block stuck, but I'll gladly take suggestions and ideas. **

**Happy reading and please, do review! This is fanfiction, it's not all about what I want to happen, so if there's anything you'd like to see... **

**A/N 2: In this chapter, we meet Santana's mom. I wrote her with Sara Ramirez (you know, Callie Torres from Grey's Anatomy) in mind.**

* * *

><p>Santana dropped me off at home so I could have a quick shower and grab my duffle bag. She came inside with me. Mom's car was in the driveway, so I knew that she was at home, but I didn't see her in the living room or the kitchen. I had guessed she would hide around the time I got home.<p>

I went straight to the bathroom as Santana dropped herself on my bed. As I was undressing, I could hear the Latina playing on the old guitar that I hadn't touched in ages. A few years ago, my mother had thought it nice if I could play the piano and forced me to take classes. Puckerman thought playing the piano was lame and had taught me to play the guitar to convince me that it was cooler. The guitar in my bedroom was an old one of his. Santana liked to jam on it randomly.

I took a shower and quickly dried my hair. When I came out in my room, I saw that Santana was gone. Her absence was explained by the sound of the piano downstairs. Her mother had taught her and she was great at it. I threw some stuff in my duffle bag and nearly ran downstairs.

She looked up at me and smiled as I entered the living room. She closed the piano and we entered her car. I had to stop myself from staring as she drove us to her home. There was something incredibly sexy about Santana driving her car.

As she pulls up to her own house, my phone buzzes. I frown when I see who the text is from – Mike Chang. We had exchanged numbers once as we had to work on a science project together.

_Can you apologise 2 Santana 4 us? Didn't mean to upset her in Glee. Rachel was out of line. X Mike & Tina_

I read the text out loud to my best friend. She shrugged. "That's supposed to make me forget it? Nobody stood up for me back there, only you." She turned her head towards me. "Except for you. Fuck, Quinn, you were awesome in there. I haven't even thanked you yet."

I blushed. "It was no big deal," I tried to play it off. "You're my friend. She had no right to say that, she doesn't know you at all."

"It was kind of hot," Santana winked. My blush grew even deeper. I knew she meant nothing by it – she said this type of thing all the time.

We went into the house and Santana wanted to go straight upstairs, but I stopped her. "We should at least say hi to your mom."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Why? She'll know we're home when she sees us."

"At least she still cares enough to want to know," I couldn't help but bite. I immediately regretted it. I was being overly sensitive.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Q. I wasn't thinking." I knew she was being genuine. We went to the kitchen, where Sara Lopez was reading a magazine. She looked up when she heard footsteps.

"Oh, hi, Quinn! How are you doing?"

I was about to say 'fine', but Santana was faster. "Her mom's being an obnoxious bitch again. Is it okay if she stays over tonight? Good old Judes kicked her out again."

"Santana!" Sara warned. "Don't talk about your friend's mom like that, especially not when she's here." She now turned to Quinn. "Are you okay, though? Of course you can stay here as long as you need to."

"It's alright, Sara. Thanks for letting me stay. I don't know what I'd do without you guys."

I've known Sara Lopez all my life, so it wasn't weird for me to address her by her first name. It also wasn't weird that she stood up and enveloped me in a big hug. She smelled like strong coffee, a smell I will always associate with my childhood and my second mother who has often proven to be more of a real mother than my own. She wasn't home very often either, but at least she tried for her daughter.

"Is it okay if we're going to the cinema tonight? To get our mind off stuff."

"Did something happen at school?"

Santana gave me a sideways look and I understood not to say anything. "No," she answered. "Just the usual. Teachers bitching, that kind of thing."

"Santana Rosa Maria Lopez, when are you going to start minding your language?" Sara asked, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips. "I don't understand. I never taught you to swear this much!"

"Yeah, I kinda grew up around dad and my brothers. That did help."

With that, we went to her bedroom where I left my duffle bag. She quickly showered and changed into her favourite pair of ragged jeans and her grey shirt. She never dressed like this for school and the only reason she was wearing this outfit now was that we would be in a dark cinema. She still managed to look unreasonably hot.

* * *

><p>She insisted on paying for the tickets, so I got us both drinks and popcorn before she even had the chance to get her wallet out again.<p>

I was about to enter the second but last row to take a seat in the middle, our regular seats whenever we went to the movies. Santana surprised me by grabbing my wrist and dragging me all the way to the highest seats. The love seats.

"Santana, what are you doing?" I asked in confusion. My thoughts were racing.

"Oh, come on, Fabray. You know you want to cuddle."

This girl was amazing. She just knew me so well, she always knew what I needed and when – before even I did. I nestled myself in her arms as the credits started rolling.

The music immediately drew us into the movie. Everything about it was right – the acting, the moments that made your heart jump. Santana had seen quite a few horror movies and even she would sometimes audibly jump up. Even at those times that they knew there would be a fright, the movie still managed to scare them shitless.

I loved it. I loved being in Santana's arms, holding onto her, clutching her tightly when I jumped up, burying my face in her neck if the tension was too much. She stroked my back, held me close and pretended she wasn't feeling the way I was. She stole all my popcorn, sneaky as she is.

When we left, we both felt exhilerated.

"It's like a fucking ride in a fucking theme park," she laughed. "You know, when you're on this crazy ride and you just want it to stop 'cause you think your heart won't make it, but then you want to go again and again? Like, you want it to stop but you don't. And you feel nervous and funny and you just can't stop laughing."

"That's exactly what it feels like," I agreed. "Fuck, I don't think I'll sleep tonight."

"As long as you wake up," she winked.

"Say, you don't ever dream you're going into another world, do you?" I teased. "'Cause I'd hate to have to follow you there."

"As if you'd do that! You'd be too scared, Fabray. One step in and you'd be scrambling to get back out."

"Hey, if it was you that got caught in there, I'd follow you until I found you and take you back to make sure you're safe," I said seriously. "I'd never leave you, Santana."

"You say that now," she muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Santana... how did you get that idea? I wouldn't leave you. You... you've been there for me, always, no matter what. You could do nothing to get rid of me. You're stuck with me, Lopez," I smirked.

She looked at me. Really _looked_ at me. "Do you mean that?"

"Of course, silly. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. I guess I do." She tapped my nose playfully. "I bring all the awesomeness in your life after all. You'd die of boredom without me."

I stuck out my tongue and we ventured into more childishness until we were back at her house. I couldn't wrap my head around the vast difference between this Santana and the bitch she was at school. If only people could really see her...

* * *

><p>We were lying in Santana's bed. We were both in our pyjamas – for me that was sleeping shorts and a baggy shirt, for Santana sleeping shorts and an old tank. We had watched some TV – crappy MTV reality shows that got worse as the hour progressed. Somehow, I had ended up with my arm draped over her waist. We were talking about nothing in particular when I threw it out there.<p>

"I'm not sure if I want to stay on the Cheerios, Tana."

"What?" She held me at arm's length, searching my eyes. "What are you talking about? The Cheerios are your life!"

"No, they're not. I know that after the whole pregnancy thing I'm lucky that Sue allowed me to come back, but I just... it seems so pointless. It's not even fun and it controls your life. I mean, look at you – you can't even come to practice because you had one fucking cheeseburger."

"But... it's... Cheerios, Quinn. It's like your golden ticket to college!"

"I don't want to brag, but I don't need Cheerios to get into college."

"But it'll look good on your application forms, being Team Captain."

"I guess I'm going to have to try to use my brains to get into university. I know I can do it. I'll just study extra hard, take it up a notch."

"You're already a straight A student, Quinn."

"I know, which is why I think I can do this. Ever since losing Beth, I feel like I have to start taking my life into my own hands. I don't want to be controlled anymore. I want to make my own choices." My voice strained at the mention of Beth.

Santana rubbed my back. "I guess I understand, it's just... you've lived and breathed Cheerios for so long, it's such a huge change. But I think you can do it. No, I _know_ you can do it."

"Maybe you can quit Cheerios as well. You know, fully quit."

Santana sighed. "I can't do that, Quinn. I need it to get into college. I don't have your brains."

"You're crazy smart, Santana. Of course you can do it on your own. You don't need the Cheerios. Your way with words and your wit and your speed of thought... you really don't need it."

"I'm not going to risk it, though."

The conversation fell silent. After a while, Santana turned off the light and moved our bodies so that she was spooning me. "Let's go to sleep."

She wrapped her arms around my waist and I rested my hand on hers. "Thank you."

"What for?" she asked sleepily.

"Everything. Just... everything. I don't know how I would have gone through my pregnancy and my miscarriage without you. It was clearly a mistake wanting Finn to be the father and in the end, even though he meant well, Puck wouldn't have made a good dad. And neither was of any use when I lost her. They were so wrapped up in themselves. You were there for me, always."

"Yeah, well, you're my best friend, Fabray. Deal with it."

"I love you." My cheeks were burning, my heart pumping wildly – even though I knew that she wouldn't see in what way I meant that statement.

"I love you too, Q," she murmured in my hair. Her breathing steadied and I knew she was asleep. I let out a long sigh.

"Fuck," I groaned softly before trying to sleep myself.


	8. A Visitor

**A/N: As promised, the second update. If you have ideas or wishes for the high school chapters, let me know now! The sooner you send me, the sooner I update :)**

**Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!**

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><p>I groan in frustration when the phone rings. I was just helping myself out and so fucking close to coming. I contemplate for a moment to just let it go to voicemail, but can't concentrate anymore.<p>

"Quinn Fabray-Lopez," I say in my phone voice.

"Quinn! How are you doing?"

I recognise the voice immediately and smile. "Sara! I'm doing great! We actually got some news on the babies yesterday, we meant to call you, but then we... uhm... got... busy." I blush furiously. _Way to go, Fabray._ "So, anyway, how are you?"

"I'm doing great, you know me. What news on the babies? Good news? Are they okay?"

"Yeah, they're great. It's just that James will be Parker. She's a girl and Santana loves that name... Of course I love Parker, too."

"You can still call her James," Sara jokes.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, not going to happy. You can be liberal and gender-doesn't-matter-yada-yada, but there are boundaries."

"I was just joking, Quinn." I can almost hear the smile in her voice . "Listen, I'm dying to see my daughter and my daughter-in-law and I was thinking of coming to visit you this weekend. Is that okay for you guys?"

"Sure! I'd love to see you again. I have so many questions for you! Tana's trying, but of course she only has the books. It's adorable, though."

"I bet she sounds like a walking encyclopedia. Didn't she study every book on pregnancy by heart?"

"She sure tried," I laugh. We settle some details for the visit and when I hang up, I feel content. It'll be good to see Sara Lopez again.

* * *

><p><strong>Santana's POV<strong>

I was so happy when Quinn told me that mom would be visiting this weekend. I haven't seen my mother in the longest time and I would never admit it out loud, but I miss her sometimes.

Quinn is out to the library. She prefers going alone and taking her time. Mom and I are sitting in the living room, nursing a cup of coffee from the beans that she brought with her.

She has just updated me on how dad and my brothers are doing. Tiago is still traveling around the country, trying to make a living with his music. Carlos is still gradually working his way up in a big ass law firm in Washington, D.C.

"So, are you looking forward to the birth?" mom asks.

"Honestly?"

She rolls her eyes, letting me know how stupid that question is. I got my infamous eyeroll somewhere.

I take a deep breath. "I'm scared to death, mom. What if I'm no good? What if I hurt them? What if I say the wrong things to Quinn? What if I do the wrong things? What if I drop them or don't wake up at night – you know I'm a heavy sleeper – and Quinn has to get up all the time? What if Quinn feels neglected? What if I see them and I don't love them? I'm such a bitch all the time, mom, what if I'm a bitch to my own kids? What if they don't love me?"

"Calm down, honey," mom says, pulling me in for a hug. "You'll be a great mom. Look how fantastic you are with Carlos' kids."

"Yeah, but I'm their aunt and I hardly ever see them. At the end of the day, they go home with Carl and I go home to Quinn. And what if I don't love them? What if I hate them? What if I hate them for taking part of Quinn away from me? What if I hate them because I won't have Quinn's undivided attention anymore?"

"Santana, stop freaking out. Think about it – these babies will be part of Quinn. They'll be Quinn's flesh and blood, they'll come from within her body. How could you hate something that is part of Quinn?"

I haven't thought about it that way. Woman has a point. "And what if Quinn's bond with Ezra and Parker is so much stronger because they're genetically related? What if I feel left out? What if they use it against me?"

"Quinn would never do that and you'll be the ones raising your kids. You'll be their mom in every way. Your parent is the one who raises you and loves you and is there for you. If you treat them right and just, and if you love them and you're there for them, they'll never doubt for one second your motherhood. It'll be natural to them."

"What if I don't wake up when they cry? I'm such a heavy sleeper, I'll never hear it and - "

"Santana, I'm sure Quinn will find a way to wake you up so you can tend to them," Sara laughs.

"What if I do things wrong? What if drop them? Don't know how to do things?"

"You'll learn. And if Quinn is being honest, you're devouring books on parenthood. You'll know what to do, it comes natural, you'll feel it. And if you have any questions, you can still call me. You know I'm there for you guys."

"I'm just... I'm scared, mommy." I hate my tiny voice. Mom wraps me tighter.

"Oh listen to you, such a badass! You were always the tough kid. I can't even count the times I've had angry calls from parents because little Santana Lopez punched their kid for insulting her, her family or her friends. You'll do great."

"Thanks, mom. So you don't think Quinn will finally see how useless I am and leave me?"

"Holy – Santana! Quinn loves you more than you can imagine. Don't tell me that you still doubt her love after all these years? She was the one who won you over in the first place. Trust me, the day that woman leaves you, I will eat my shoes. Hell will freeze over before Lucy Quinn Fabray-Lopez leaves Santana Rosa Maria Fabray-Lopez."

"I love her too, mom. I love her so much. I'd die for her."

"She knows that and she would do the same if it were of any use. Now lift your skinny ass and let me cook for you. I'm going to have to have a word with Quinn. She's not feeding you well."

"I work out all the time, mom. You can't harass her, she's trying to get me as fat as you are," I joke. Mom slaps me playfully on the head, but laughs along.

"No, seriously, though. She's trying. Fuck, mom, I'm so proud of her it makes me cry."

"You're going to have to watch your language around the kids," mom points out. "Or they'll end up like you," she scoffs. "Actually, it'll be interesting. Fabrays growing up around a Lopez."

"History repeating itself? Oh – right there, mom. Quinn and I grew up together and I've had a foul mouth for as long as I can remember and Quinn still only swears when she's really angry or when she's -"

"When she's what?"

I blush. Shit, how do I get out of this. Mom looks at me, question marks all over her face. Then it dawns on her. "OH! Oh. I... yeah. Wow. Okay. Sweet Jesus, the two of you are like rabbits, aren't you? When I was on the phone with Quinn earlier this week she had to find a way out of talking about sex as well."

"You're not helping mom."

God, this is just mortifying.

"Yeah, you are your parent's daughter. I wonder where Quinn got it, though. The Fabrays always seemed such prudes and have you seen her sister? God, so stuck up."

"MOM! We are _not_ having this conversation. It's beyond disturbing"

"Aww, look at you, all flustered! But yeah, this is taking the wrong turn. Now show me how you make that spaghetti carbonara so I can tell you what you're doing wrong."


	9. I'll Stand By You

**A/N: I'm sorry, I know it took me an awfully long time to update this one, especially since it was kind of in my head - well, the second part was. I just didn't get around to actually writing it. Then I finished the first part for Santana's Scheme, which was about two weeks overdue, and I also updated Glee Hogwarts that is now The Magic of Glee. So, okay, no excuses. I can't even say life got in the way. Only tumblr, Naya, Dianna and Heather did. Also the awesome fanfic that is out there. There'll be another A/N at the end 'cause I don't want to spoil you too much. **

**Also, I've "planned" this thing out and it should be about 30 chapters long. I'll try to update WALHFAF soon, I kind of have that in my head as well.**

**I'm by the way also posting this on my livejournal account. I'm just _kalexico_ there as well. You can find me on Twitter as _pauliends_ or on tumblr as _kalexico_ if you have any other questions.**

**Happy reading & review!**

* * *

><p>My heart was pounding in my ears, my mouth dry, tears stinging in my eyes. I stared through the window, avoiding my parents who were sitting in the front, hoping that they wouldn't suspect anything was wrong. They never did and for once, I was grateful for that.<p>

Dad pulled up in front of the house and I went straight to my room, mumbling something about homework. I slumped down on my bed and let the tears fall freely. After a while, the sobbing subdued and all I could do was let my thoughts wash over me.

I wasn't that good Christian girl anymore, but I was still Christian. I still believed in God and my faith was still important to me. That morning, the sermon in church had been on homosexuality. It left me wondering how I had let it come this far, how I had been okay with it all along. I should've fought it harder, bashed it when it started.

The worst part was that I couldn't tell anyone without telling them that I was in love with a girl. Brittany wouldn't understand what the big deal was and although I felt close enough to the people in Glee club, their recent betrayal – because that was what it felt like – of Santana left me feeling stranded. Sure, Mike and Tina had reached out to us afterwards, but that didn't make us best buddies. That didn't mean I trusted them enough. And in the end, how would they understand what I was going through?

I decided I only had one choice. There was one person only in whom I could confide: Santana. I took a deep breath, grabbed my phone and dialled her number.

"Tana, can you come over?" I hated how thin my voice sounded.

"Sure, but I haven't had lunch yet. Should I bring something or are we going somewhere?"

"Um... just pick something up on the way. My parents are leaving soon to have lunch with the Mulhollands anyway."

"Are you okay, Q?" she asked worriedly. I cursed myself mentally for not being able to make myself sound at least okay.

"Yeah, sure," I brushed it off. "Just get some Chinese or something. The usual."

"Okay, I'll be there in half an hour."

"See you then."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Santana!" I managed to sound a little annoyed. "Now go and get that food! I'm starving."

"Aren't you always," she chuckled. "Ever since you're off the Cheerios..."

"Starving, Santana."

"Alright, alright, I'm going. See you later."

"Yeah, see you."

Santana wasn't one to break promises and half an hour later, she was at the front door. My parents had left just ten minutes earlier. Santana was her usual snarky self, commenting on her mother's antics before she had even looked at me. She walked straight to the kitchen, getting some plates out. I followed her, hearing her out but not really listening. At first, she didn't notice anything particular about my silence because that was how it usually went.

It was when she turned around that she stopped her rant mid-sentence and her face fell. She walked over to me and searched my eyes. "What's wrong, Q?"

I swallowed. Suddenly, I started to think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. I'd known her all my life, but we had never really talked about this subject before. What if she was a homophobe and had never let it on?

The words came out strangled. "Everything. Can we just... can we eat first? I don't want the food to go cold. I don't want to eat it alone, because if I tell you now that's how it might end up and I want to at least have lunch with you one more time before you possibly drop me and leave me behind like my parents did when I was pregnant and-"

"Q, you're worrying me now. You know I would never leave you."

"Tana, please... can we just have lunch first?" My voice trembled and I willed the tears not to well up. I didn't want her to see me this upset without knowing what was going on.

"Okay. We'll eat first, but promise me you'll tell me what's going on afterwards?"

I nodded. "I promise. Don't worry, Tana."

She sat down and I could tell she was still anxious to know what was up. It was an awkward lunch and not much was said. We were both nervous. After quickly doing the dishes together, I took her to my room.

"So, what's going on. What happened?" Suddenly, she seemed to get an idea. "Did someone try to hurt you?" She sounded angry. "Who was it, Q? Give me their name and I swear I'll fucking-"

"No, it's nothing like that. It's..." I searched for words. Everything was spinning, nothing seemed to be real anymore. "Can you just hold me?" I asked in a tiny voice.

All this hugging – it wasn't something we used to do. But then Finn and Puck and the pregnancy happened. The hormones made me emotional, my parents abandoning me made me feel insecure and all I wanted was a pair of strong arms wrapped around me tightly. Asking Finn to do that made me feel guilty. Same story for Puck. And in the end, I didn't want Puck to embrace me. For a long time, Santana was the only one who knew the truth, and she held me. It's a habit we didn't break after the miscarriage.

So now, it wasn't that weird for me to ask her to hold me. We fell into each other automatically, melted together. It felt so natural and the thought that this might be the last time we got to do this made me hold on tighter. I was so fucking scared I'd lose her over this, over something I wasn't sure of. But I had to tell her. She tried to pull out of the hug several times, but I wouldn't allow her.

"Okay, Q, now I'm really worried. You're acting like someone died."

For a second, I wished that were the case instead of what was really going on. I immediately regretted the thought and chastised myself.

I cleared my throat and stepped back, sitting down on my bed. "So I went to church this morning and the topic was homosexuality."

I thought I saw a flash of mixed emotions in her eyes, almost like fear, but it was gone within the span of a second. She nodded slowly and sat down next to me. I was trembling.

"It wasn't very... nice, as you can imagine."

"Why are you so upset over this?" Her voice sounded hoarse and she coughed, looking away.

I took a deep breath. Now or never. "I think I might be gay." There. "I mean – I don't know if I am, but I know that I'm in love with a girl right now and that's pretty gay, and I never felt this way about Finn, or about any guy, and when I think back some things make more sense, but I'm not sure if I am, and please say you won't leave me," I rambled.

She looked at me, confused. "Why would I?" She wrapped an arm around me. "You're my best friend, Q. I'm not going to leave you over this. In fact, this might as well be the time to tell you something I've been hiding for a long while, afraid of your reaction because I know how important your faith is to you... I might be gay as well. No, I am. I am gay."

I gulped. I'd never expected that. I stood up. "But a-all those b-boys?" I stammered.

She smirked. "Never enjoyed a minute with them. But it goes to show that covering this thing up works."

"I... wow, Santana. For how long have you known?"

"For as long as I've known Brittany."

My world fell apart. "Brittany?"

She nodded and looked away. "I... I've been in love with her for a long time now, Q. From before I even knew what it was."

"Does she know?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. We even had a thing last year, but she broke up with me because I wouldn't come out." She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. "I lost her because I was a coward. You're the only one who knows apart from her."

Santana was in love with Brittany. Holy shit. This day was full of surprises. "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked bitterly, hurt that she hadn't confided in me when she was the first person I ran to confronted with this... issue.

"As I said, I thought that maybe you'd... I don't know, freak or something. I also didn't want to worry you or anything, you had the whole miscarriage thing going on and I wanted to be there for you. You needed a friend, you needed support. I didn't want you to worry about me too much."

"But you were hurting! I can't believe I didn't even notice. I'm such a bitch!" I was beyond caring about my language. "My best friend's heart is breaking and I don't even see it!"

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Q. You've known me for long enough. You know how good I am at hiding my feelings."

"But you're my best friend!"

"This is going nowhere, Q."

"Wait a second – I know you're not as devout as we are, but didn't you in believe in God?" I asked confused.

She shrugged. "I still do. Well, to be honest, I'm not sure. I mean, I really want to, but I don't know."

"How... I don't get it. It's... wrong."

"No, it isn't," she says with a passion. "Whatever that moron told you this morning, it's not true! Look, I don't know if God exists. I want him to. I find it a comforting thought that at least there's someone loving everyone under the sun, no matter how flawed they are and no matter how many mistakes they make. I find it a comforting thought that at least there's someone out there who cares for me no matter what I do, who protects me no matter what choices I make. I believe in that kind of God."

"But Tana... I'm that someone too."

She shook her head. "It's different, Q. I can't explain it. Who is God to you?"

"I... I don't know." I'd honestly never thought about that before. I sat back down next to her. "I... I think... God is someone who created us," I started slowly. "God created this Earth with a vision of how it should be. He created us with a purpose. I believe God protects us and he is forgiving."

"Then why would it be wrong to be gay?"

"Because he put us on this earth to pro-create."

"And that is our only purpose? To make babies? Whose purpose it is to make more babies? What about people who are infertile? What about people who don't want children? They're just wandering around aimlessly, wasting air?"

"Of course not! I just... Fuck, Tana. I've never thought about this. It's how I grew up – going to Church and believing there's a God watching us who will judge us at the end of our life. A forgiving God – if you confess your sins and if you try to somehow make up for it."

"Who decides what sins will get you sent to hell, supposing there is a hell?"

"I... I don't know. I always just listened to the people at church and my parents." My voice is strained as I continue. "I know they think homosexuality is wrong, disgusting. What if they leave me again? What if God leaves you?"

"Q, don't worry about that. God will never leave you, not even when you want him to. I know your religion. It's about love and caring. It's about support, even for strangers. It's about accepting each other's differences and making things work, about building things together. It's not about rejection, it's not about bad-mouthing each other and denouncing your own children because of something they were born with. I refuse to believe God would condemn you based on who you love – because God, Quinn – at least you love! I believe God accepts everyone. I think if anything, he would want you to make up your own life and live to make yourself happy and not your parents."

"But the Bible..."

"Who wrote the Bible? God? Jesus?"

"No. People."

"Who did they hear it from?"

"I don't know."

"I've been through this exact same thing, Q. The Bible should never be taken literally, and it should never be taken as the ultimate word of God. You've no idea how fishy and complicated the history of the Bible is. You can use it to support any argument, it's so ambiguous. You won't find the truth there. You'll only find God's true word in your heart. Because if you believe in God, then God is in your heart and that's more important than an ancient book that's been translated a gazillion times and holds words that have undergone a change in meaning over all these years. I believe that you can use the Bible as an inspiration, but please don't take it literally. God would want you to think for yourself. He wouldn't want you to be suppressed by what others say. Do you honestly think He would prefer you to hate yourself? If you're gay, you can't help it. There's nothing you can do about it but embrace it and be proud of it. The true word of God is right there in that big heart of yours. I don't know if He exists, but I know that you believe in Him firmly. I don't believe God would abandon anyone."

I took the words in, remembering each and every single one. I felt the tears streaming down my face and she wrapped her arm around me tighter.

"Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me."

"I know it's hard, Q. It must be so much harder on you. But we'll get through this, together. I promise. You're my best friend and I love you."

"I love you too." I pressed her body against mine and we fell back on the bed, lying there for a while, thinking.

Santana was the first to speak. "So you're in love with a girl. Care to tell me who it is?"

I knew this would come up eventually, but I couldn't tell her yet. There was too much to process. So I lied. I felt awful doing it, especially after this heart-to-heart, but I felt like I had no choice. "You don't know her."

"This is Lima, Q. Of course I know her."

"No, I met her on the internet. She's from Fort Collins, Colorado."

"For how long has this been going on?"

"A while. I don't know. A few months?"

"And where did you meet her on the internet? I didn't think you were that into it, to be honest."

"Oh, just tumblr. We shared a lot of common interests, exchanged our livejournal-accounts, then we started messaging there. She doesn't know I'm in love with her, though."

"So you've never met her in person?"

"No, but I'm planning to." I felt how this was getting worse and worse.

"I want to meet her too, then. See if she's worth all the pain and suffering," Santana winked.

Oh fuck. "It'll only be in a while, though. It's not like either of us has the time or money right now. I'm tired, though." I yawned demonstratively. "What about napping for an hour and then looking at our homework?"

"Okay." We shifted our positions until our heads hit the pillows. "Come here," she smiled, pulling me closer. Instead of spooning me from behind, she made sure we faced each other and directed my head to rest in the nape of her neck. "Don't worry, Q. Everything will work out fine."

* * *

><p>The next Monday in Glee club, Santana and I were sitting together as always. Neither of us thought it was possible, but our friendship had grown stronger.<p>

When everyone had arrived, Mr Schue turned around and wrote one word on the white paper: **REGIONALS**.

"So," Mr Schue said, turning towards us. "As you're all aware, Regionals are coming up and we have yet to put together a setlist."

Berry's hand shot up.

"Yes, Rachel?"

"I have the perfect song for the duet. I am convinced it fits mine and Finn's voice perfectly -"

"Mr Schue," Tina interrupted. Everyone turned around in surprise and she blushed at all the sudden attention.

"Maybe we should let Rachel finish first," Mr Schue said.

"Oh please," Santana rolled her eyes. "She's just going to go on about that perfect song for her and Finn for an hour. It's not like we haven't heard it before. I don't think I'm alone when I say I'm more interested in what Tina has to say."

"What do the rest of you think?" Schue asked, looking around. Nobody spoke out loud, but there was a collective murmur of agreement. "Fair enough, go ahead, Tina."

Berry looked a bit upset, but also curious as she turned to see Tina.

"Don't get me wrong, I think your voices are great," she addressed Finn and Berry. "But it's what we always do. I mean, the duet always goes to Finn and Rachel, and they always sing a romantic song. It's getting a bit old, to be honest."

"So, what do you suggest?"

"I suggest we do something different. Why don't we do a duet about friendship? And why don't we give others a chance to shine?"

"That sounds like a good idea, Tina. What do the rest of you guys think?"

"I think she's right," Mercedes said. "Friendship is important too and it'll make us stand out more. I value my friendship with Kurt and it deserves a duet."

"Thank you, Mercedes," Kurt beamed. "Our voices would be such an interesting combination!"

"Actually," Tina interrupted. "I think Quinn and Santana should do it. It would send the message that two girls can have a profound friendship, share a deep bond as well. They always stick together. I also think New Directions owes Santana something after not standing up for her when Rachel went out of line."

Everyone was surprised – they couldn't remember when Tina had last spoken so much. They all agreed with her, though. Santana and I were even more surprised, but we could see in each other's eyes that we loved the idea.

"That's an interesting train of thought, Tina," Mr Schue acknowledged. "Quinn, Santana, what do you think?"

"We'd love to, Mr Schue," I beamed. I then turned to Santana. "In fact, I think we already know the perfect song."

She nodded. We both knew which one. We also knew it by heart.

"Could you learn it by Friday and perform it for us?"

"Sure."

* * *

><p>It was Friday and I could tell that she was slightly nervous. She had no doubt about her voice, but this was a big deal for both of us. We didn't want to mess up.<p>

In a rare public display of affection, she kissed me next to my eye. I did the same. We sat down on chairs in front of the others. They looked at us expectantly. The band started playing the music. We looked at each other, nodded. We hadn't worked out any choreography, this was all about the singing.

Santana's voice instantly calmed my nerves. It was amazing how fitting the words were with recent events in mind.

_Oh, why you look so sad?_

_Tears are in your eyes_

_Come on and come to me now_

_Don't be ashamed to cry_

_Let me see you through_

_'cause I've seen the dark side too_

_When the night falls on you_

_You don't know what to do_

_Nothing you confess_

_Could make me love you less_

I sang the chorus along with her.

_I'll stand by you_

_I'll stand by you_

_Won't let nobody hurt you_

_I'll stand by you_

Now it was my turn. Santana smiled at me.

_So if you're mad, get mad_

_Don't hold it all inside_

_Come on and talk to me now_

_Hey, what you got to hide?_

_I get angry too_

_Well I'm a lot like you_

_When you're standing at the crossroads_

_And don't know which path to choose_

_Let me come along_

_'cause even if you're wrong_

We harmonised again.

_I'll stand by you_

_I'll stand by you_

_Won't let nobody hurt you_

_I'll stand by you_

_Take me in, into your darkest hour_

_And I'll never desert you_

_I'll stand by you_

The next part was for Santana.

_And when_

_When the night falls on you, baby_

We finished the song together.

_You're feeling all alone_

_You won't be on your own_

_I'll stand by you_

_I'll stand by you_

_Won't let nobody hurt you_

_I'll stand by you_

_Take me in, into your darkest hour_

_And I'll never desert you_

_I'll stand by you_

_I'll stand by you_

_Won't let nobody hurt you_

_I'll stand by you_

_Won't let nobody hurt you_

_I'll stand by you_

The choir room was quiet as the song finished. I could see that Santana had tears in her eyes and I knew how mortified she'd be if she would involuntarily start crying in front of the rest of Glee club. We stood up and I took her in my arms so that she could hide her face in my shoulder. She shook very slightly.

"Thank you," I whispered to her. "I love you. I meant every word of it."

"Me too," her voice cracked. "Me too, Q."

Mr Schue was the first one to speak. "Well, that was amazing, girls. I think it's safe to say that we all agree on doing this for Regionals."

Nobody protested.

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: The song is obviously "I'll Stand By You" by The Pretenders. I know Finn sang this to Kurt in S1, but let's pretend he didn't. It was just too perfect to let it pass and I had a hard time finding a good song because a lot of songs reminded me too much of a friend of mine with whom I'm in a difficult situation with at the moment.**

**A/N 3: I don't mean to offend anyone with the talk about God. I don't believe in God myself - officially I'm Catholic, having been baptised, having done my first communion, having been confirmed - but I don't believe God exists. I know this story is very AU, but I still felt like I couldn't get around this with Quinn as it is established in the show how strongly she believes. The emphasis lessons as the show continues, but I don't think she'd ever stop believing in God. I felt that with her upbringing and the kind of faith her parents bestow upon her, she would break out in gay panic at a certain point. In an earlier future chapter it was already said Santana was the one helping her with this, so I thought I'd address it now. I tried very hard to capture Santana's and Quinn's feelings on the matter, but I might be way off, I don't know. **


	10. The Unholy Trinity Reunites

**A/N: Wow, this chapter turned out longer than I'd expected it to, but it wrote itself again. It also turned out way mushier/fuzzier/sickeningly sweeter than I thought it would. **

**There's some good ole smut in here as well, so if you can't stand to hot women having sex: a) kill yourself b) as if.**

**Thanks for the awesome reviews and alerts, they keep me going! I'll say it here as well: I've taken my HeYa RPF down, but if you want to read it (two one-shots, one smut and then one fluff that also has a bit of Dianna), mail me at pauliends [at] yahoo [dot] com and tell me if you prefer them in .docx, .txt or .odt.**

**Keep reading & reviewing! **

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><p>"Do you not know the concept of 'a few days off'? It means <em>leave me the fuck alone<em>! I'm not fucking dealing with this, Bigfoot!"

I can hear Santana pacing around the living room. She is fuming, I can hear it in her voice.

"No! Ask William! Little fucker wants to prove himself, this is his shot at it. If he can't help you, find another way but I swear to God if you have the audacity to call me again until I arrive at work in a few days I will bring my very pregnant, very protective and very scary wife with me. May I remind you that in high school, we were the cheerleading bitches everyone was scared of. There's a fucking reason people trembled within our presence and we haven't lost our ways, so if you value those pathetic little marbles you call balls, you know what to do."

A heavy sigh – and I can almost see her pinch the bridge of her nose through the wall.

"Yeah, well, you should've thought better than to call me this early when I'm not at work and haven't even had my first coffee of the day yet." Pause. "Just ask William already, Bigfoot. And if he doesn't know, call Jonathan or Leslie." Pause. "Whatever."

Now I can see her rolling her eyes. She hangs up and comes back to the bedroom, obviously trying to muffle the sound of her footsteps.

"That is kind of futile considering you just yelled for half an hour," I remark lazily. She jumps up at the sound of my voice, but lies down anyway and crawls towards me. She gives me a lazy kiss.

"I'm sorry," she mutters against my lips. "I just don't get time off a lot and I really want these few days to be about us and also about Brittany. I don't want them bothering me with things other people know a solution to."

"You would've made Sue Sylvester proud out there," I remark. "We've had this conversation before. Why are you always so... rude? Why is it necessary?"

"He irritates the hell out of me, he's so incompetent that a fucking whale could do his job better and the only reason he hasn't been fired yet is the fact that his daddy has a fair amount of shares in the company. It pisses me off that his last name gets him so far without him ever having to prove anything. On top of that, he's after my job and I worked too hard for this, Q. I worked too hard to get where I am to just give up without a fight. He's looking for a weak spot and ready to use it against me, so I toughen it up."

"But they wouldn't give him your job when you're so good at it – so much better than he could ever be – would they?"

"I don't know, Quinn. It's still a man's world, despite what those trendy lifestyle magazines say. Being a woman – being a hispanic, lesbian woman – I have to work my ass off to get what boys like him get served on a plate. I don't want to talk about work, though. God, I can't believe Brittany is going to be here this afternoon! It's been so long!"

Her entire demeanour changes when she talks about Brittany and I can't ignore the pang of jealousy in my chest. After all, Brittany is her first love. Brittany is also a dancer with a killer body that doesn't look like she transformed into a whale.

Santana hasn't stopped talking about how excited she is about Brittany coming over for a few days, but suddenly she notices my silence. She takes me in, worry clear in her eyes. She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as she asks: "What's wrong, Q?"

"Nothing." My thick voice betrays me. The tears silently welling up do so as well.

"Hey – easy now, what's up?" She softly wipes away the tears, but I can't stop them and they flow down my cheeks, wetting them.

"I... I just... what if you see Brittany and you want her? And she'll see you and see how hot you are and want you too. I mean, Brittany looks amazing and I'm fat and ugly and you hate me!" I feel the anger rising within me. "You fucking hate me, don't even try to deny it, Santana Lopez! You wish you could just have your way with Brittany, don't you? Do you want me to leave? I can book a hotel room if you want, put it on that fucking company of yours so you can fuck your precious Britt's brains out! Is that what you want? Huh? Admit it, just fucking admit it already!"

She looks honestly perplexed and it only fuels my rage. "Don't look like you don't know what I'm talking about!"

She places her hand on my arm, but I swat it away. "Where the hell is this coming from?" she asks.

"I'm not stupid, Santana. Well, I'm fucking sorry I don't have Brittany's abs or her ass or her boobs or whatever! I'm sorry I don't have her fucking body! I know I'm fat and despicable and you have needs but Jesus Christ, you could at least get yourself a vibrator instead of having people you haven't seen in years fly in so you can rub it in my face that I look horrible and you don't want me!"

"Calm down, Quinn!" Santana says, annoyed. "What the fuck is this? You look amazing. You're beautiful! You're carrying our babies, Quinn, of course I don't want Brittany. I'm _over_ Brittany and I have been for a long time, so I don't know what just got into you but you have to know that I only want you. You look fucking perfect right now and I'm even going to miss your beautiful belly when the babies are born."

"So you won't want me after I've given birth?" I ask, the anger now having been replaced with worry and insecurity.

"Of course I'll want you, Quinn. I will always want you because you will always look amazing to me. And right now... you just... I can't even describe it. You _glow_, and you look so healthy and feminine and pretty and I just want to have you all the time. I want to have you _now_ and I can't ever get enough of you."

"So you don't want to have sex with Brittany while she's here?"

Santana rolls her eyes and gives me a soft kiss. "Of course not, silly. Besides, even if I wanted to, she would never do that to you."

"So you do want to."

"NO! Quinn, what did I just say?"

"That even if you wanted sex with Brittany, she would never have sex with you because I'm pregnant."

"Exactly. _If_ I wanted to, but I don't."

"I'm just scared, Tana. Brittany is so beautiful and her body is to die for and -"

I lose my ability to think when she latches onto my earlobe and sucks on it vigorously, her hand working its way to my enlarged breasts. Before I even realise what she's doing, my shirt is gone and her fingers are working my shorts, sliding them down my legs.

She looks at my naked body and breathes heavily. "You're so damn sexy, Q." Her lustful eyes and hoarse voice tell me that she isn't lying, that this isn't something she's putting herself through to put my mind at ease. That this is something that she really wants.

She kisses my lips again, hungrily. Her hand has found its way back to my breasts, the centre of the pad of her index finger barely touching the tip of my erect nipple, circling it slowly. She kisses my other breast, flicking her tongue over the nipple, swirling, sucking, all very carefully because she knows how sensitive they are.

She kisses her way over my stomach, making sure to carress it with her wonderful lips, trying to touch every patch of skin. Her hands trail over my sides, so slowly and reverently it makes me shudder. They settle on my hips as her lips arrive at my sex. She takes in the smell and sighs happily before trailing the outline of my lips with her tongue.

"T-Tana," I gasp as she kisses my inner thighs and sucks the skin until I'm sure it'll leave bruises. She pushes my legs open even more before running the very tip of her tongue through my folds, from bottom to top in one go.

She looks up at me and I'm momentarily thrown by the sincerity in her eyes. "I love you."

I want to answer her, but throw my head back when I feel her tongue plunging inside again, followed by her lips around my clit as she sucks on it, suckles, licks it. Her hands move from my hips to my ass and she lifts my lower body upwards. She doesn't need to – my body knows what it wants.

"Please," I groan. She bites my clit ever so softly before dragging her tongue to my entrance, licking around it. My hips disagree and buckle into her, catching her tongue. My breath becomes heavier as she pumps the muscle in and out, slowly increasing her pace, holding a steady rhythm. One hand has moved to my sex, her thumb circling my clit with just the right amount of pressure.

I feel myself getting closer and closer to an orgasm and when she repeatedly hits that one spot, I explode. My walls are tightening around her tongue and she uses more force, taking me even higher.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I let out as my body trashes violently. She keeps on circling my clit as I come down from my orgasm, drawing it out of me slowly. She removes her tongue slowly and I sigh when I feel it leave my body. She laps up the juices before she lets go and snuggles up to me, kissing me lazily. I taste myself on her lips.

"Wow," I finally manage to say. "And you haven't even had your morning coffee yet."

She treats me to that familiarly wicked Santana-grin. I can tell she's proud of herself – and so she should be. Ultimately, her grin softens to a genuine smile. "I love you," she says softly, looking into my eyes. "I love you and there's nobody else for me who looks sexier than you do. I'd be happy just lying here with you for the rest of my life."

"You're getting mushy again, Santana, and you don't have hormones to blame. Also, you have way too many clothes on. It's ridiculous."

I'm already impatiently tugging on her shirt when she grabs my hand. She shakes her head. "We're going to have breakfast first. I'll make you some bacon and eggs while you shower. Then I'll shower and I'll go do the groceries while you rest. When I get back, we'll have lunch and then we're going to leave to pick up Brittany at the airport."

"Okay. But I want to do the groceries with you."

"Why? I don't want you to exhaust yourself, honey."

"Oh come on, I'm not ill. I can do the groceries just fine. Also, I'm dying for some cotton candy."

Santana rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "I should've known." She gives me another sweet kiss before she says: "Alright, I'm off to cook breakfast now. Will you be alright."

"As I said, I'm pregnant, not ill."

She shrugs. "Okay. I'll see you in a bit."

Santana is hopping from one foot to another, standing on the tip of her feet occasionally as she tries to get a better view.

"Will you calm down," I smile. "She'll be here soon."

"I still can't believe it though, Q. I'll only believe it when I actually see her."

"Suit yourself. Just stop the hopping-thing, it's getting on my nerves."

"Love you too." She takes my hand and laces our fingers together, winking at me. It's then that I see a familiar, tall blonde. Santana has seen her as well.

"Britt!" She jumps up and waves excitedly, then remembers that she's Santana Lopez and tries to look as if she never lost her cool in the first place. "Over here!"

Brittany, who looked up when she heard her name, smiles – no, _beams_ when she sees us. She nearly runs and drops her bag on the floor as she takes Santana in her arms. I don't feel awkward watching them, after all it's not a sight I haven't seen before. In high school, we were all best friends, but somehow Santana was closer to me and closer to Brittany than Brittany and I ever were to each other. If Sue Sylvester hadn't chosen me as Captain, Santana would have been the spil in our friendship.

The hug is firm. Brittany looks up from Santana's shoulder and smiles at me. Her eyes are moist and she bites her lower lip. After what feels like an eternity, they let go and Brittany immediately wraps her arms around me, more carefully than she did with Santana.

"It's so good to see you," she says, her mouth near my ear. She hugs me longer than I'd expected her to. Tears are silently streaming down her face when she finally lets go.

"Congratulations again! I still can't believe you're actually having babies – especially you, San."

Santana shrugs, but can't hide her proud smile. "Ezra and Parker are going to be all kinds of awesome," she grins.

We walk to a coffee shop inside the airport and take a seat. "So, how is the pregnancy?" Brittany asks us.

"It's going great so far," Santana answers. "Although Q's hormones play up sometimes."

I blush, thinking about earlier today. "Nothing we can't fix, though," my favourite Latina winks at me. My blush grows even deeper.

We all place an order and soon are sipping a cup of coffee. We don't have any trouble finding topics for conversation. If you ignore the topics, you would swear we still see each other every day.

Santana drives us home, telling Brittany everything about her job and the moronic assholes she has to deal with so that she won't have to talk about it once we're inside the apartment.

As it turns out, Brittany isn't seeing anyone at the moment. She has been dating on and off with men, women and even a transsexual FTM. She tells us that as soon as she stumbled upon the definition of pansexual, she knew that was what she is. She owns her own dance studio in LA, together with a friend of hers who has a business degree. She also puts together choreographies and has even worked on some video clips with big names. Santana and I are both impressed.

I feel plain talking about my job as a lawyer after Brittany finishes her exciting story. She's still awed and confesses that those TV shows about law firms and advocates always confuse her because she can never figure out what you have to do to win. I settle for telling her it's complicated and it depends on the case, the judge, the jury if there is one, the attitudes of the parties, and so much more. She nods, but I know she still doesn't really get it.

Once we get home, Brittany gets settled in the guest room. After that, we all crash in the living room.

"So, you said you dated Mike, but isn't he back with Tina? I mean, it said so in Hummel's e-mail. It kind of implied it."

"They dated all throughout college, but then they broke up. They wouldn't tell me why. Anyway, after a few months, Mike and I started dating. I honestly just felt bad for him because he's a really nice guy and he was so hurt. He was the one who broke up with me, he said he wasn't over Tina yet and it wasn't fair to me. Another five months later, he got back together with Tina. Have you two been apart since high school?"

"No," I smile proudly. "We've been together throughout the years. It was long-distance in college, but we made it through."

"Do you want more babies? I'd love to have a bunch of them, they're just so cute! But I can't right now because I have so many opportunities with the dancing."

"I don't know," Santana says, looking at me questioningly. "We haven't really talked about how many kids we want. We both agreed the time was right for us to start trying when we did and we were obviously happy that we were having twins. I guess we'll see if we want more after we got things figured out with Ezra and Parker."

"So it's not like you really want to carry babies? I should've known," Brittany grins.

I know it before I see it, but when I look my suspicion is confirmed – the hurt on Santana's face is evident. She was smiling before, but now she's looking at her hands, absent-mindedly studying her thumb. I reach for her and stroke her back. She looks up at me, tries to smile, but fails.

She got over her infertility, but she still likes to avoid the topic. She doesn't like talking about it, or thinking about it.

"Did I say something wrong?" Brittany asks, undoubtedly sensing the tension in the room.

"I..." Santana's voice is hoarse. She coughs and tries again. "I can't... I'm not... I..." She looks at me pleadingly and I understand that she's trying to ask me to take over.

"Santana's infertile. She can't have babies," I say softly.

Brittany nods. "I'm so sorry for rubbing it in, I honestly didn't know. What happened?"

Santana looks at me again, so I tell her: "She's always been like this, but it's only when she got kicked in the stomach in college that the doctor noticed it. The kick didn't cause it, though."

"Who kicked you in the stomach?" Brittany asks incredulously, obviously either wondering why anyone would want to do that to Santana or how Santana had allowed things to escalate to the point where she was vulnerable enough to be kicked.

"Just some butthurt guy I rejected. He couldn't stomach my insults or the fact that pigs like him are the reason I'm gay. It's okay, Britt. Don't feel bad. I've dealt with it, I've moved on. At least I have my Q to carry our babies." Her smile is small, but it's genuine.

I then take the conversation to the upcoming Glee reunion.

We spend a lot of time recalling our adventures in high school, our shenanigans and the things we did for the Cheerios and Glee club. A lot of promises are made of keeping in touch and we exchange all contact information possible.

Santana and Brittany go to the park to feed ducks one afternoon and I know not to expect them back any time soon. I had expected them to want to be alone for a bit as well. One morning, I'm preparing lunch while Santana is having a shower. Brittany asks if she can help and I tell her what she can do.

"You guys really love each other, don't you?" she asks quietly.

I smile and don't miss a bit. "More than I ever thought one person could love another."

Somehow, she looks sad. "What's wrong?" I ask her, worriedly.

She shrugs and smiles. I can see the sadness in her eyes. "Nothing. It's just... please don't take this the wrong way, Quinn, but Santana... she was beautiful in high school, but now she's a woman and just... wow. Also, she's really making it and I'm so proud of her. She's leading the life she wanted – a family, someone who loves her despite her numerous flaws, someone who gets her. She's so happy and still so much herself and I fucking miss her. As a friend. But I can't deny that it makes me wonder what would have happened if I hadn't pushed her to come out. If we'd still be together, and what our life would be like."

I honestly don't know what to say to that. "Britt..." I trail off.

"Hey, I'm really happy for you, though. I swear. You two were my best friends. We grew up together. We became the people we are together and because of each other. I'm happy you both found love, you've both been through so much. I'm not going to lie to you, Quinn. It hurt me when Santana was willing to come out of the closet with you when she couldn't do that with me, it really hurt me. It's only later I saw that she just needed more time than I was willing to give to her and by the time she'd had enough time and was ready, too much had happened between her and I. I've often wondered if it was always you, if she loved you when she was with me, and I've come to the conclusion that I don't want to know. I want to believe she loved me, I really think she did. To think that I had that love, I had her, and I let her go makes me want to punch myself sometimes. But I'm happy for you. It's just... hard, seeing what could have been mine. I think it's not even so much this, seeing you together, as it is the feeling that I... I don't know, it makes me feel so... alone." She's crying softly.

"Britt..." I say again, now walking over to her to give her a hug. I surely don't remember her being this serious. She's shaking in my arms, clinging to me.

"I'm so sorry, Quinn." Her voice is muffled.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Brittany. For the record, she did really love you. You were her first love. Santana still loves you, just in another way. Don't tell her I told you, but she was super excited for you to come over. She misses you as well."

"Really? I mean, she has you and..."

"Really, Britt. You mean a lot to her. And to me."

I'm bawling like a baby myself. Neither of us hears Santana coming in, but we sure hear her voice.

"Hey, what is this cry fest about?"

"Nothing," Brittany and I say simultaneously.

"I wants in on the hug, though."

She wraps her arms around both of us and kisses our cheeks. "Whatever's got the both of you in this state, it'll be alright. We can even sing a song about it if you want. Didn't Mr Schue always say that?"

"I think we're crying too much to be able to sing a song," I smile.

Saying goodbye to Brittany is harder than I thought it would be. I feel a lump in my throat as we wave at her before she disappears. I look at Santana and hold her. She's trying so hard to keep the tears at bay.

"It's alright. Let it all out," I whisper in her ear. She starts crying and doesn't stop, sobbing heavily, gasping for breath. I stroke her back, shush her and cry myself.

That night, as we're lying in bed, she turns to me and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. She likes doing that.

"Was it hard?" I ask her.

"Hm?"

"Seeing Brittany. Was it hard?"

"Yeah," she admits. Her voice is strained. "She was my first love, you know? I mean, I'm over her, but part of me... part of me is still that heartbroken teenager. They say your first love always has a place in your heart and I guess it's true. I'll always love you most, though, and differently. But seeing her... she's just... she grew into a beautiful woman, and she's still that same Brittany, only wiser and a bit more grown up, but still that same Brittany. And I miss her in my life. I wish she could stay here. She helped me through so much and she's just... she's still a part of me. She broke me, you helped rebuild me, but I love her regardless. Not that I want her back – I don't, I love you too much. But part of me wonders, what if, you know? I don't want it, I don't want my life to be a life without you in it, or without you having our babies. It's just... I can't explain it."

"It's okay," I whisper. I guess I'll never fully understand the feelings as Santana was my first true love. Santana is crying again and I hold her close. "It was hard for me, too. Knowing your history, I mean. I didn't feel threatened by her and I was happy to see her, but I always keep thinking that she hurt you."

"I hurt her too."

"I know, and I'm not judging. I just – I keep remembering she hurt you because she meant so much to you. And your connection is still so obvious and so deep. That'll never go away. But I know that what we have is strong shit as well. Anyway, we'll see her soon at the reunion. We'll also have her over for the baby shower and you heard what she said about those projects with dance theatre in New York. You won't have to miss her for this long again."

She looks at me, full of love. "You're amazing, Quinnie."

She hardly ever calls me that. It warms me up inside. "So are you, Tana."

Both exhausted from the raw emotions, we fall asleep in each other's arms as the tears on our cheeks are still drying.


	11. Well, That Was Awkward

It was a Saturday afternoon and I was on my way to Santana's in an attempt to escape my mother. I was growing sick and tired of her scrutinizing and had taken off with the excuse of a visit to the library. I hadn't told Santana that I was coming over, because we never did. We just showed up.

I noticed that Santana's car was in the driveway, but her parents' car was gone. I got out of mine, reached behind the flowers on the window sill and grabbed the key. I could hear loud music blaring, another sign that my best friend was home alone. I made my way inside and after quickly scanning the downstairs area, I went upstairs to Santana's room.

I didn't think to knock on her door – we never did. Needless to say I was beyond shocked to find Santana with a hand stuffed in her shorts, the other one clutching a magazine, breathing heavily and moaning. I hadn't heard the sounds over the music. For a moment, I was overwhelmed, frozen on the spot. I was surprised, but also... _aroused_. I bit my lip as she threw her head back in pleasure, tossing the magazine aside as she came.

She opened her eyes and that's when she saw me. She hadn't before, her eyes having been glued to the magazine.

"Quinn? What the fuck? For how long have you been standing there?"

"Relax, Santana. Just a minute or so," I said as I walked over to her. She blushes furiously and quickly buttoned up her shorts. I took the magazine and looked at the picture that had gotten her off. Now it was my turn to blush.

The girl in the picture had blonde hair, hazel eyes, pale skin and was exactly my body type. In short – the girl looked a lot like me generally. It made me blush and also wonder if it meant anything. I took a look at the cover – it was that same girl. It was a battered _Maxim_, torn around the edges.

Santana looked away in shame.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing we already came out to each other," I said dryly. "Otherwise, this would have been about ten thousand times more awkward."

"It's fucking awkward already," Santana spat, her face still hot in embarrassment.

I sat down on the bed. "Why don't you go to the bathroom, wash your hands, come back and pretend I didn't just walk in on you with your hands in your panties getting off?"

"Jesus, Q," she flushed. "What happened to you?"

I shrugged. "I've accepted myself. Thanks to you."

She muttered something as she got up to follow my advice, but I didn't catch it. Waiting for her to come back, I flipped through the magazine mindlessly. I stopped at a picture of a very sexy Latina and felt an aching need down there.

That was the moment Santana came back. "That's not my magazine," she said in a half-hearted attempt to convince me of her innocence. "It's just... they're Tiago's. I came out to him when he last visited and he gave me his old _Maxim_s as some kind of fucked up present. And I just... well... you know."

I couldn't help my curiosity. I knew that I had told her we'd pretend it hadn't happened, but well, since she brought it up again... "Do you do it a lot?"

"What? God! I don't know. What's a lot?"

"Do you, like, do it daily?"

Santana sat down, making sure there was distance between us. "No."

I raised an eyebrow Quinn-style and scooted over closer to her.

"Not with a magazine," she gave in. "But I don't... I mean, I don't, like, watch porn or anything."

I raised my eyebrow again.

"Fucking hell, Quinn! Okay, so maybe I do sometimes. But not all the time. Not as often as the magazines. Only, like, when it's really bad."

"When is that?"

"Fuck, I don't know. I would also like to point out that I haven't had sex with anyone since Brittany and Brittany and I would go at it like daily, so I think that's a good excuse for, you know, this. I mean, at least I don't go and date rape girls or something."

"Hey, I'm not judging you here," I smiled softly. "This is what friends do. They talk to each other about sex and love."

Apparently, Santana had decided to turn the tables on me. "So, speaking of love – how's that Tumblr girl of yours doing?"

I sighed. I absolutely hated lying to Santana. "I don't know. It's just... I don't think it could work out in the end."

"Why not?" Santana asked, genuinely interested. "Is it the distance thing?"

I looked at her, straight into her eyes. I couldn't help but feel like my next words weren't that much of a lie. "Yeah. The distance is unbearable. I want to be able to hold her and have her know what it means to me. I want to be able to touch her and have her know what it means to me. She's just... she's so far away. It seems like she's close to me, but in reality, she isn't. And I don't know how much longer I can deal with that."

The distance I felt to Santana was worse than a physical – it was emotional. It was pure torture to be so near her, but be so far away at the same time. I almost wished Tumblr girl was real and that I was in love with her. At least Tumblr girl felt the same way. My thoughts went back to the magazine and how much the girl in the picture had looked like me. I really didn't know how to feel about that. Maybe it was a coincidence? Maybe Santana just had a thing for blondes and that was the only reason? I couldn't allow myself to hope that there was another explanation, one that was closer to my own feelings.

Santana wrapped an arm around me and pulled me into her. I rested my head on her shoulder.

"It'll be fine," Santana said softly, pressing a kiss on my hair. "You'll meet someone. I mean, look at you... you're hot stuff," she winked. I blushed, again. I used every ounce of willpower I had not to read too much into it.

"You think so?" I asked in a small voice, fishing for a compliment.

She leaned back and took me in head to toe. She smirked. "No," she said flatly.

My smile wavered. "Oh."

"I know so." Her smirk grew wider and I playfully hit her arm. "And believe me, I know a girl is smoking when I see her," she added.

I closed my eyes and cursed myself. How was I ever going to stop myself from being in love with her? How was I ever going to deal with it the day she came up to me and told me she met someone? Would I be the pathetic best man at her wedding, pining over the bride – or in this case, one of the brides? I knew I couldn't do it. I had to tell her how I felt before it was too late, but I was so scared of her rejecting me that I couldn't bring myself to. This would've been a perfect moment. The right words were on the tip of my tongue, but I backed out. I couldn't.

She changed the subject and my chance was gone, just like that. "So, anyway, what did you come over for?"

"Just my mom," I sighed. "She's just so... controlling. I can't stand it. I can't breathe with her watching my every step, giving me 'advice' all the time. She makes me feel so childlike, so unable. I hate it. I needed to be away from her."

"Well, my parents are gone for the weekend. They left this morning and this afternoon, they texted me that they were going to visit my aunt and stay the night. Tiago is nearly never at home and Carlos is of course at college."

"Great," I smiled. "So that means we have the large flatscreen for tonight?"

"Yep. And the extra sweet popcorn for you."

God, how she read my mind.

* * *

><p><strong>Santana's POV<strong>

Okay, so I know this is really Quinn's story. I've been reading it along with her writing it and I've been surprised a few times. There are tons of things I didn't know. Anyway, Quinn's asleep right now and as much as I hate it, I'll probably be gone by the time she wakes up, so I wanted to surprise her by writing down here how I fell in love with her.

I knew fairly early on that I was into girls. It took me years to face it and accept it, but I've always just... known. I watched Quinn grew into the ridiculously beautiful woman she is and I've always admired her. I've also always had a thing for her.

As kids, it was the typical inability to deny her anything. Whatever Quinn wanted to do, we did. Whatever crazy plan she had, I ended up going along with it. I did it all for that huge radiant smile of hers. I did anything for that smile.

As we grew older, I realized that I kind of liked her as more. I figured that she'd never want me that way and that she was straight anyway, so I never told her. I just fucking lived for her hugs or her kisses (on the cheek).

Then Quinn got pregnant and it hurt like a motherfucker. I realized then that this was more than just liking someone. I was angry, I was hurt, I hated her irrationally – but I never let any of it shine through. Sometimes, however, I couldn't contain myself and I'd snap at her or be vile. The confusion and hurt on her face made me feel so bad about myself that I'd immediately try to make it up to her. I decided that I couldn't do this anymore – I couldn't want her anymore. I mean, who would've thought she was gay if she had gotten pregnant? It was only years later that I learnt that lesbians in high school were the group with the highest risk on teen pregnancy.

So I ran to Brittany. The thing is, I'd always liked her too. Not the way I was into Quinn, but I liked her well enough to try and see if there could be more. I tried to fall in love with Brittany, and I did. I really did love her, but it was just on another level. The feeling couldn't compare. And every time I was convinced that I was over Quinn and fully into Brittany, Quinn would do or say something to get me back to square one.

So, even though I genuinely loved Brittany, at least a part of my heart was always with Quinn. I knew that in the end, no matter what, Quinn only had to snap her finger and I'd do whatever I could to make it happen. That's partly why I didn't fight harder for Brittany. I loved her, but I knew that I wasn't being fair in trying to get her to be with me on my terms when she wasn't the only one I loved. I knew she deserved better, and I let her go. It hurt to let her go, because I did genuinely have feelings for her, but I knew it was the right thing to do. I think it was the first time that I wasn't being selfish.

Fast forward to where Quinn left the story – when she had once again fled her home from her scrutinizing mother to the safe place that was mine. She stayed the night, we watched movies and she had popcorn. I was trying very hard to not be confused about things between us. I was still actually recovering from the shock that was her telling me she was gay – the hope it had brought along – the inevitable downfall when she told me about Tumblr girl. And then the shame when she caught me with that magazine. Along with the guilt of masturbating with my best friend in mind.

The lust was there – I can't recall a moment when it wasn't from the moment I hit puberty and hormones took over. I had suppressed it, ignored it, but was never able to chase it away.

The next morning, I woke up alone. I went downstairs, figuring I'd find Quinn there. When I entered the living room, I found her on the couch, in front of the TV. She was wearing her nightwear - a thin tank top and tiny shorts. She had a bowl of cereal in her one hand and a spoon in the other, eyes trained on the television, her hair still messy. It was that sight that made me realize just how much I'd always be hers. It was then that I finally crossed that thin line and knew that there was no return. That I'd never be able to deny it again. It was probably an accumulation of years and years of confusion about my actual feelings towards her. When she turned her head, saw me and smiled, my world stopped.

_I'm in love with Quinn Fabray_, I thought to myself. _And there will never be a second that I won't be anymore._


	12. A surprising revelation

**A/N: I'm sorry for leaving this story for so long! As some of you will know, I had to work and then study for exams, and between all that I also wrote some other things. Besides that, I wasn't motivated for this story anymore, but over the course of the past few weeks I received some reviews that really gave me the energy to sit down and write this. I will most certainly finish it.**

**I know some (or many?) of you are anxiously awaiting the Glee reunion. I can tell you that that will be something for chapter 14, so if there's any idea you'd like to share or something you would like to see, do let me know.**

** Thank you for sticking with me and please review if you have a thought to share!**

**A/N 2: I have also set up a Twitter account for fanfiction updates. Follow _kalexigron_ and see what story I'm working on/what story has been updated/ask me questions/whatever.**

* * *

><p>"Ezra, Parker, your mami would like to thank you very much for all the awesome sex you're getting her," Santana murmurs against my naked stomach.<p>

I swat her head playfully. "You're going to have to learn to behave," I mockingly warn her. "Can't have you say such things when they're around, you know."

She lifts herself up and starts a promising kiss when the doorbell rings. We both groan and I have half a mind to tell her to just ignore it, but as I look into her eyes I can see we're thinking the same thing - we're too curious to just let this pass. There's also the fact that I suspect that she ordered some books on parenthood online and she always throws a fit when she has to go out to pick them up because she wasn't at home or didn't open the door.

She gets up, gives me a last peck on the lips and throws on a bathrobe as she make my way to front door. I sigh, stand up and follow her.

She doesn't even bother checking who it is first and buzzes them in. Soon after, there's a knock on the door.

She groans when she opens it and meets Kurt Hummel's overly excited face.

"What the fuck?" is her invitation for him to come inside.

"I just wanted to make sure you hadn't forgotten about the Glee reunion next week! It's soon and I wouldn't want you to make any plans. I'm sure everyone is dying to hear about how you two - oh my god, I interrupted something, didn't I?" Kurt babbles, only noticing after a while that our disheveled look screams that we just got laid - and good.

Santana smirks and shrugs. "Gotta take care of a pregnant woman, lady lips."

"Oh God," Kurt mumbles, his cheeks flushed. "Okay. I gotta go then. Keep your schedules clear because I swear I will kill you if you don't show up at the reunion!"

Before either of us can stop him, he leaves. Santana closes the door behind him and leans against it. "Can't believe we got out of bed for _that_. As if we don't know he'd never relent and just keep organizing reunions until we show up to one of them."

I smile - besides me and the babies I'm carrying, there's nothing Santana loves more than sex and sleep. Kurt just kind of interrupted a mix of those.

"We have to get read to go and pick up Frannie anyway," I remind her. "It's not like we could have stayed in bed for that much longer."

"I hate it when you're right," she says, rolling her eyes and returning to the bedroom. I follow her and we get read in silence. I'm a bit nervous - it has been years since I last saw my sister. I wonder if she's changed much, what her life is like. I wonder if we will be able to talk to each other - after all, we did spend an awful lot of time hating each other.

The drive to the airport passes in silence. Santana knows that I'm nervous and that I prefer to be left alone with my thoughts. When we're standing still at the red lights, she takes my hand and squeezes it, offering me a small smile. I seriously lucked out with this woman.

When the airport building comes in sight, I can feel how my heart starts to beat faster. It's a good thing Santana knows all the details, because my mind is too clouded to be bothered by that right now.

What if she still hates me? But then she wouldn't come to visit me... what if Santana guilt tripped her? No, that's not her style. What if she threatened her? It isn't entirely impossible that she thought I wanted to see my sister and then called her with all kinds of threats...

"Santana?" I ask as she parks the car. My mouth is dry and my voice is trembling. "Did she want to come or did you force her to?"

She looks at me, taking me in for a few seconds before she answers. "I had to persuade her a bit, but I didn't force her. I just talked some sense into her, that's all. I think her initial objections were more of a reflex than anything else. Did you know that she was married?"

"Yes. I heard Dad mention it once, how it was a disgrace to the family."

"You and her are not that different, you know," Santana says as we get out of the car. "You both went out to do with your life what you wanted, despite what your parents want from you. You'll be fine. She's not going to kill you and I'm there so she'd be dead before she even had the chance to try."

I give her a weak smile and take her hand. We make our way to the arrivals and when we reach it, she kisses me softly and mutters: "You'll be alright."

Fifteen minutes later, people are coming out of the doors. I crane my neck in anticipation, suddenly worried that I won't even _recognize_ her. That's of course absolutely ridiculous, but you never know since it has been so long.

The second I spot her, I know that I shouldn't have worried. She still looks exactly the same, but of course she has aged and looks more like a woman than a girl. Just as I want to tell Santana I saw her, she sees me and walks over to us. As she comes closer, I notice that her eyes are brimming with tears.

She immediately pulls me into a hug. It's a bit awkward because the Fabrays have never been very physical with each other - Santana is still about the only person I'm affectionate with. I return the hug nonetheless and feel Santana's reassuring hand on my lower back.

"Frannie," I say as she finally lets me go. "How are you?"

She cups my cheek and takes a long look. "I'm fine. But what about you? I can't believe this, Quinn. You've changed so much since I last saw you."

"I was fourteen," I shrug. I place my hand on my belly. "And as you can see, I'm doing great. We're having twins. A boy and a girl - Ezra and Parker. Do you have kids?"

"I have a son, Kyle and a daughter, Chloe. Kyle is ten and Chloe is six."

I hear a soft caugh and mentally slap myself. I wrap my arm around Santana's waist and pull her closer. "This is Santana, my wife," I say, unable to hide a hint of pride. After all this time, it still feels great saying it.

Frannie smiles at her. "I talked to her on the phone," she says, then addresses her. "I remember you. Jesus, how could I not? The two of you were attached to the hip. I shouldn't be surprised you ended up together. I'm sorry for my reaction on the phone, by the way. Of course I knew that the two of you were married, but I'd never talked to any of you since you were kids. I wasn't actually confronted with it. But I've had time to wrap my head around it." She turns back to me. "I only want you to be happy, Quinn. I'm sure mom would've been proud of you."

That's when I tear up and lean in for another hug. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

"I'm so sorry for the way things went," she sighs as we start moving towards the car park. "You'd think we would have teamed up, but we were always fighting as kids."

"I guess an age difference of four years isn't ideal when one is a teenager and the other is still really a kid - and then when one is about to get out of town and the other one is a stuck teenager. Where do you live these days?"

"In Chicago. I'm a mediator there. It's an interesting job."

Santana smiles. "I guess it runs in the family. Quinn's a lawyer."

Frannie looks surprised. "That's great, Quinn! What firm do you work at?"

We make some more small talk on the way to the car, catching up about jobs and relatived we've heard things about.

Santana proposed to have lunch at a small, cosy diner and Frannie and I instantly agree. Our love for bacon shows in our orders and Santana can't but shake her head at it. She's used to it by now.

We decide to head home for coffee. Frannie genuinely likes our apartment, despite the sometimes quirky art.

"This is a really nice place," she admits. "Who's the one that's into art?"

"That would be me. A few of our clients are in the business and we sometimes get invited to exhibitions or gallery openings. Most of these are gifts to the company, and they get distributed amongst the employees. I've really grown to like it."

She spots the disorganized small piles of books on the kitchen table and in the living room - and she hasn't even seen the small library in our bedroom, or in the guestroom. She lets out a lough as she reads the titles, most of which are on parenthood nowadays.

"Who bought of all these?" she asks, reading the back of a book she randomly picked up.

Santana blushes and is suddenly very interested in finding those cookies she brought for me the other day. "My lovely wife," I tease with a smirk. "She's got a bit of an OCD, she has to buy every book on the subject she can get her hands on."

"You don't need to worry so much, Santana," Frannie says. "It all comes naturally. I'm sure you'll find yourself selling all of these soon enough."

Santana is about to reply when her phone rings. She sighs and rolls her eyes. "Sorry, I have to take this," she says before going into another room.

Frannie and I go to the living room and sit down. It's hard to believe how much she's changed. She's much warmer than when we were kids, more cordial as well.

"Isn't it funny how we both ended up," I remark. "You with a black man, me with a hispanic woman. Maybe it's not a bad thing that Dad isn't in our lives anymore. He'd probably make snide remarks all the time, making us feel utterly worthless."

Frannie runs a hand through her long, blonde hair and sighs. "I said the same thing to Santana on the phone. I'm not going to lie to you, Quinn. When I first heard that you were getting married to a woman, I was shocked. I couldn't believe it. No matter how much I rebelled against mom and dad, I always stood by my faith. When Santana called me, I initially didn't feel much for visiting you. I still thought it was wrong and I simply didn't understand. But Santana talked some sense into me and I've talked to David about it too and he helped me come to terms with it. It sounds so silly in hindsight."

"How does it feel, being a mom?" I ask her softly.

"It's the best feeling in the world," she reassures me. "The days Kyle and Chloe were born are the best days of my lives - along with the day David and I first kissed and the day we got married. Too bad Dad was such a jerk on all of them. When I gave birth to my kids, I called him to let him know. I felt like they were his grandchildren after all, but he just insulted me and my husband and my children. I don't want them anywhere near him."

"I'm just so scared," I admit for the first time. "I'm so scared that I'll be just like Mom. That I'll be out of touch with them. That I'll have good intentions, but that I'll turn out not to understand them at all, or know how to be around them. I've never been good with kids, you know? Or with people."

"You're nothing like mom, Quinn. You're stronger than she is. You went after what you wanted. I have reasons to believe that mom was the way she was because of dad. Without him, she was a different person. He shaped her, she followed him. It was the easiest way to cope, I guess."

"What do you mean, you have reasons? And cope with what?" I ask, my heart beating fastly in my chest. What is she on about?

"We weren't in touch, so I never told you this, but when mom died I went back home to see if I could help. I actually told dad that he should call you as well, but he wouldn't allow you inside the house. Anyway, I found a box with letters and diaries in her closet. Long story short, mom was bisexual."

"_What?_" I ask in disbelief. "Frannie, what... how... _what_?"

"From the diaries and letters I gathered that she was together with a girl in college, but her parents didn't approve of homosexuality. She met dad first. He was everything her parents wanted for her and they adored him. It of course helped that his future was looking bright and he came from a good family. But she fell in love with her roommate and had an affair with him. Dad was livid when he found out. Desperate to reassure him, to please him, they had unprotected sex and she got pregnant with me. She broke it off with the girl and married dad."

I don't say anything. It's just too much to take in. After a struggle to come up with words, I rub my face and say: "I don't understand. Why didn't she tell me? When she found out about Santana and me - why didn't she tell me?"

"I think she was trying to forget it ever happened. It sounds like she loved this girl. But as I said, her parents didn't approve and we know how much of a bigot dad is. And she knew how happy her parents would be if she married him. You see, you're nothing like her."

"I was so desperate to please them," I whisper, my mind still blown. "I spent so much time trying to please them and it just - it was never enough. Nothing I did was ever good enough, and then Santana made me so happy and I just couldn't do it anymore. I had to get away from them." I look up at Frannie. "What was her name?"

"Shannon Beiste. Weird name, I know."

"I'm so sorry, babe," Santana begins as she enters the room. I look up at her, feeling a little sick. This is just - it's just _so_ much to take in right now.

She hurries over to me. "Are you okay, Q? What's wrong?"

"My mom. She - she -" I shoot Frannie a begging glance, urging her to explain.

"Mom was together with a woman in college. Shannon Beiste." Frannie looks sympathetic, trying to understand how much it affects me - but I don't think she ever will. To think that she rejected me for loving Santana while she herself had - and coach Beiste? - and wait a second, that means that Coach Beiste must have known who my mom was. Why didn't she tell me?

"Hold up," Santana says. "Seriously? Judy Fabray and coach Beiste?"

Now Frannie looks confused. "Do you guys know her or something?"

"She was the football coach in high school," I nearly whisper. "She took over from coack Tanaka in junior year. Why didn't she ever - she must have known who I was, why didn't she ever tell me?"

Santana sits down. "Well, what was she supposed to say?"

"Mom also begged her to never tell anyone," Frannie offers. "Never."

Santana smiles sadly. "Coach Beiste would never betray her, or anyone. She's the sweetest woman. And you know, Q, maybe that was why your mom reacted that way. Maybe she saw what she had lost, she was reminded of what she had given up. Maybe she was even a bit jealous that you would get to lead the life she wanted. Add to that how she treated you for years, trying to shape you into the person her parents expected her to be as well, and then see herself failing like that..."

Finally, silent tears roll down my cheeks. "Oh god, I wish so much I could talk to her, figure out what that was all about. It's like - I thought I knew her so well - it's like suddenly, she's a different person."

"Maybe we could try to contact coach Beiste, ask her if she wants to talk about it?" Santana suggest.

I nod. "That sounds like a good idea. I'm sorry for the mood, Frannie. It's just that - wow. I'm still amazed. I would never have thought..."

"What is she like? Shannon?" Frannie asks, looking down at her hands.

"As Santana said - she's the sweetest woman. She really cares about people, wants to help them. People often judge her on her looks - she's a bit bulky. But she was a great coach. So different from dad. Like, they're almost opposites."

"Maybe that's why she married him, amongst other reasons. Because he was nothing like the one she really loved."

I nod again, not knowing what to say. Santana gives me a chaste kiss. "It'll be alright," she tells me softly.

* * *

><p><strong>Santana's POV<strong>

Frannie and I are doing the dishes. I insist Quinn doesn't, even though it won't harm her. I just like taking care of her and she knows how important it is to me sometimes. Especially at times like these, when she's shaken or down. She knows I feel a special need to look after her and protect her then. Other times, she'd probably fight me and get her way, like Frannie did now.

"Do you think we can come and visit you sometime?" I ask casually. "I've always wanted to see Chicago and I'm sure Quinn would to. And I really want her to reconnect with her family a bit, you know?"

"Sure. I still can't believe this. You make her really happy. Her face lights up when you enter the room."

I blush. "She means the world to me. I love her more than I've ever loved anyone else, more than I can describe, so I won't try."

"How did the two of you get together? I mean, you've always been friends..."

"Actually, Quinn is writing down how she fell in love with me. Maybe you can ask her to read it sometime." Then I remember some... explicit details and I make a note to myself to remind Quinn to send her sister a censored version. "How did your husband deal with your first pregnancy?" I ask her.

"He was just as worried and scared as you are and just as reluctant to admit it," she smiles. "But it'll be just fine. Quinn is going to give birth to an amazing boy and an amazing girl. You'll raise them well and they're going to be great people. I just know it. I'm so glad that Quinn can be who she really is now. Mom and dad tried so hard to shape us. It's a good thing we both broke free."

"Quinn was hurt to hear that you got married and didn't invite her to the wedding."

Frannie looks away in shame. "I honestly have no idea what I was thinking. It's just - we hadn't spoken in ages and when I still lived at home, we were always competing for our parents' affection. They didn't show much of it and we both craved it so badly. We'd always try to make the other look bad to stand out ourselves. It's sick when you think about it. And then I of course knew that she was gay and I still had my head in a place where the sun doesn't shine. I really regret that."

"What's in the past is in the past," I shrug. "She got over it. She was so happy to hear that you would come and visit, though. She was also very nervous about it all. For all her bitchiness in high school and her confidence as a lawyer, she can be incredibly insecure when it comes to people and relationships. She's still scared to be judged, she still wants to be regarded as perfect. She hates losing cases with a passion. It's a good thing she nearly always wins."

"Quinn's always been a sore loser. I think we all were. Dad just didn't accept anything less than us being the best. It was the same for our results at school. He would be furious if someone would tell him that their kid had scored better than his. Luckily, we spent a lot of our time in our rooms, avoiding the rest of the family and studying."

"You can bring David and the kids if you want to next time. Quinn and I will be moving to a bigger place anyway. This is fine for the two of us and it'll be fine when Ezra and Parker are little, but it won't be big enough forever."

"That sounds great."

At that moment, Quinn enters the kitchen and wraps an arm around me, pulling me into her. She smiles and gives me a soft kiss on the lips before turning to Frannie. "Thanks so much for coming over. I didn't realize how much I actually missed you, which is strange since we never liked each other before."

"I guess we both grew up," Frannie shrugs.

They keep talking as Frannie and Santana finish doing the dishes. Quinn asks Frannie if she wants to go out, but her sister tells her that she's tired and she'd prefer to stay in. She's staying the entire week, but of course she also has business to do. They make plans around that. When Frannie is off to the bathroom, Quinn gives Santana a more passionate and deep kiss.

"Thank you so much for calling her," she mutters against my lips before giving me another kiss, her tongue easily slipping between my lips.

She cups my jaw, her fingers disappearing in my hair. She pulls me closer and I know that we have to stop before we both can't anymore. I decide to distract her and pull away. "That was Bobby from work earlier. There's a staff party two weeks from now. He wanted to remind me of that and also inform me that we can bring our partners. Are you up for it?"

"Sure, it sounds great. Will you be networking or will you be able to actually spend time with me?"

"It's staff only, so I'll spend time with you," she smiles. "I might go and suck up some high asses for a bit, though. You know, introduce myself to important people, that shit."

"Are you gonna keep up that language around your kids?" Frannie asks as she enters the living room, smiling to indicate that she's just joking.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" I mutter.

Frannie and Quinn both burst out laughing and I find that I don't really care that I'm the source. Quinn's laugh is beautiful anyway.

Frannie and Quinn bond over the next few days and we're both sad to see her gone at the end of the week, but of course we promise to keep in touch. I feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and happiness.

I feel even more accomplished and happy when Quinn rewards me for the effort with mind-blowing sex in positions one wouldn't expect from a pregnant woman.


	13. Coming Clean

Despite being back on the Cheerios, Santana had kept up with swimming regularly. My mom was becoming more and more obnoxious and plain hard to deal with, so that meant that I spent a lot of time at Santana's. I, on the other hand, wasn't on the Cheerios anymore and the moment I noticed that the lack of training started showing, I decided to at least swim with her.

Her parents were often away during the weekend. This meant we had the house to ourselves most of the time. As time went by - time spent together - I realized that my feelings for her kept growing stronger. It was growing rapidly nearly impossible to keep them from her and I was also paranoid.

I was paranoid because I was scared that I was being obvious. I thought that she'd catch me staring at her perfect curves, or notice something in the way I held her. I tried so hard to be neutral, or at least act like I always had, that I grew scared she'd notice the intensity of this attempt.

In other words, it was a total mindfuck.

Ever since we had come out to each other, we both felt relieved that we didn't have to hide anymore. We didn't beat around the bush anymore and blatantly admitted that we watched movies or shows for the hot chicks. It became apparent very quickly that we had a type - Santana really liked blondes and I was totally into (tan) brunettes.

When she told me that she was totally into Dianna Agron, something clicked. I remembered that Maxim magazine, and the girl in the picture she was jerking off to looking so much like me. This Dianna Agron was an actress who also resembled me eerily strongly - one would think we had to be related. She almost looked like my twin sister.

That was the first time I suspected she might feel the same thing for me.

Santana always claimed that ethnic people don't blush, but I'm pretty sure she did when I told her that I was totally into Naya Rivera - an actress on the same show Dianna Agron was on.

It was another Saturday afternoon in her swimming pool and we'd both done our usual 60 lengths. Santana had planted her elbows on the edge of the swimming pool, leaning back to take in the sun. Her head was thrown back and her eyes were closed, so she didn't see me swimming towards her.

It was hard to keep my eyes off of her. I just found it unbelievable how perfect her body seemingly was. I had tried time and time again to find a flaw in her personality, but found each one to be endearing. A bodily flaw was also nowhere to be found. I guess some wouldn't like her boy hips, but it was how I had always known her. It was just who she was.

I swam towards her and she didn't even blink when I wrapped my legs around hers and my arms around her body. I rested my head on her chest and closed my eyes. Holding her just felt perfect and I was utterly convinced that I could stay like that forever. I even purred lightly when she ran her fingers through my wet hair - she knew how much I liked that.

"Q?" she asked after a while.

I lifted my head and squinted my eyes at the sun. Her head was tilted to the side and she was studying my face. I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious.

"Hm?" I asked, sliding my hand to the nape of her neck and massaging her shoulder.

"Am I going to lose you?"

I frowned. "Of course not," was my instinctive reply.

Santana talked a whole lot, but her feelings were never a subject of conversation. I always had to drag everything out of her in that area. The fact that she was being so open and honest about this apparent fear of hers worried me slightly. "Why would you?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.

She took a deep breath.

"It's just..." she looked down and then back up again, clearly avoiding my gaze. "There's something - it's been going on for a while now and I feel like - there's something I haven't been telling you. I haven't been honest with you, but I think you're going to find out sooner rather than later and I think it's best to talk about it now. Since we're in the pool and if you were to a dramatic Berry-like storm-out, you'd still have to dry off and put your clothes on and it'd buy me time to convince you that it doesn't have to change anything between us and that I'm an idiot for letting it get this far but that I promise we can still be just friends and I won't act any differently and I'd hope you wouldn't either. Because the thing is, you've always been my best friend and I don't know what it's like not having you in my life and I don't want to know either and I'm scared to find out once I tell you because the thing is, I just - you have to promise me -"

I saw her lips moving and I heard her words. Santana Lopez never rambled and putting everything together - the picture, the actress, the slight shaking of her body as she's saying all of this, this talk about losing me - it could only mean one thing. For once, I decided to stop worrying and just take action.

I cupped her jaw and pushed myself up a little bit so that we were face to face. I brought my face closer to hers. She blinked rapidly - it was the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes and brushed my lips against hers softly. She stopped talking. This time, I pressed a real kiss against her lips. She moved hers as well and before either of us knew what was really happening, we were kissing as if our lives depended on it. She rested her hand on my neck and pulled me in closer. Her lips felt soft, moist and perfect.

I thought I'd die when she slipped her tongue inside. Santana just oozed sex so I had figured she'd be a good kisser, but how did this much perfect even fit in one person?

* * *

><p>At first, we acted like nothing had changed at school. It was hard for me to not claim her as mine publically. I was convinced every guy (and every girl) wanted to get into her pants, but I knew better than to push her into something she wasn't ready for.<p>

The first time we had sex was simply mind-blowing. She kissed every part of my body, making me feel like the sexiest and most divine girl on earth. I was nervous and it was a bit awkward at first, but I soon got into it. And into her.

We came out to Glee club after about a week of dating. It was a double surprise for them, because nobody knew that we were gay (only Brittany knew that Santana was). Most of them were happy for us.

Puck had to be a cliché and make a crude threesome comment, Finn kept repeating to himself that he had lost his virginity to a lesbian and that his first girlfriend was also a lesbian - with what Santana had dubbed the _gassy infant look_. The others took it well and congratulated us.

* * *

><p>Ironically, when taking the next big step, we were in the pool again, in the same position as we had been when we first kissed. The only difference was that I was shamelessly groping her naked breast (I had tugged off that bikini top a long time ago) and she had slipped her hand inside my bikini bottoms, kneading my ass.<p>

"So, I've been thinking," she suddenly said.

I looked up at her and gave her a kiss, encouraging her to continue.

"If you're up for it, I want to be out at school."

For a moment, I didn't know what to say. That would be just perfect - but what made her change her mind? She read the queston in my eyes.

"I'm just tired of it, Quinn. I'm tired of having to hide my love for you, pretend you're not my girlfriend. I'm tired of guys leering at you, thinking they have a shot. I'm tired of being scared that you'll get sick of this hiding game and dump me to date one of those guys. And I know you won't, but the thing is just - I'm tired of it. The most beautiful girl ever is my girlfriend and I want everyone to know it. I want to be with you. And if anyone has a problem with that, that's their problem and not ours. You're mine, Quinn Fabray, and I want everyone to know. But of course I totally understand if you don't want your parents to know about us, or anyone, for that matter."

The next day, we entered the school building holding hands. As was to be expected, we garnered a lot of stares and also some insults. Santana didn't let go of my hand, however, and when we reached my locker, she made a statement by kissing me passionately.

The entire day, she would hold my hand or wrap her arm around my waist. She wasn't ashamed to kiss me in front of everyone. She dished out some snarky comments and witty remarks to anyone insulting us.

I guess it shouldn't have been a surprise that she found herself in Figgins' office at the end of the day. Some jock had been stupid enough to insult me and give me a shove. To our surprise, Sue stood up for her and threatened to sue Figgins for discrimination and not protecting his students if he didn't let her off the hook. Then again, Sue really did need Santana to be at Cheerios practice.

On the way home, she turned to me and said: "I'm sorry I got into a fight. It's just - I couldn't take it anymore, you know? And then when he called you a slut, I just snapped."

"It's okay, Santana," I reassured her. "I can look after myself and I honestly don't care what they say or think anymore, not after everything that happened, but the way you defended me was kinda hot."

She grinned cockily. "Does that mean..." she trailed off, wiggling her eyebrows.

"I'll be at yours at 7.00," I winked. We arrived at my place and I leaned in to give her a kiss. "I'll bring the whipped cream," I whispered in her ear. I felt her breath hitch and grinned triumphantly as I walked out. When I reached the door and turned around, she was still sitting there, motionless, mouth and eyes wide open. I jogged back over the car and knocked on her window. She looked up in surprise and opened it.

"Come on, stud, you better go and feed yourself. You'll need the energy tonight."

She let out a faint whimper and drove away.


End file.
